


Promises To Keep

by Yassandra



Category: Atlantis (UK TV)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-09
Updated: 2015-06-20
Packaged: 2018-02-20 13:35:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 282,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2430728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yassandra/pseuds/Yassandra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A threat to a friend draws Jason, Pythagoras and Hercules into a web of danger and deceit. With lies, intrigue and alternative agendas all around will Jason be pushed into a future that he does not want.....</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N So here we are at the start of a new story.
> 
> This is the sequel to Where The Wind Blows and it really will make much more sense if you have read that (and indeed Invictus) first.
> 
> As before this is not a slash story.
> 
> Thank you for the comments on the last chapter of Where The Wind Blows. I promise that all comments do mean an awful lot to me...
> 
> With that in mind please review this one too. I hope you all enjoy it! :-)

_**Promises To Keep** _

 

_Whose woods these are I think I know._

_His house is in the village though;_

_He will not see me stopping here_

_To watch his woods fill up with snow._

 

_My little horse must think it queer_

_To stop without a farmhouse near_

_Between the woods and frozen lake_

_The darkest evening of the year._

 

_He gives his harness bells a shake_

_To ask if there is some mistake._

_The only other sound's the sweep_

_Of easy wind and downy flake._

 

_The woods are lovely, dark and deep,_

_But I have promises to keep,_

_And miles to go before I sleep,_

_And miles to go before I sleep._

_(Robert Frost – Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening)_

* * *

Jason bit his lip and counted the meagre supply of coins in his hand again. He sighed. No matter how many times he counted it nor which way he looked at it it still wasn't enough. Why hadn't Hercules spoken to him sooner? He growled lightly in frustration. If he had known how short on money they were becoming he could have helped to do something about it. But no, Hercules hadn't told him; had once again been trying to protect him from the world and from the realities of life. Mustn't upset the family head-case he thought more than a little bitterly. He sighed again and ran one hand through his dark hair. That was uncharitable and unkind of him. The truth was that he knew that it was only a couple of months since he had had some kind of breakdown and both Pythagoras and Hercules had been unfailingly kind and supportive in the aftermath. It was just that even now they were walking on eggshells around him, clearly afraid of upsetting him and risking him falling apart again. The problem with that was that it was all beginning to get more than a little suffocating. While it was lovely that his friends were so concerned for his well-being he was used to having a lot more space – a lot more independence – than the other two seemed to be willing to give him. Sooner or later he was going to have to say something; to make them realise that he really didn't need protecting; that he was far from being as fragile as they both seemed to think. Yes he still had his dark days; days when the walls closed in on him; days when all he really wanted to do was shut himself off from the world; or lashed out angrily at his friends, only to feel guilty and apologise wholeheartedly later; but he needed to move on – to start living his life properly again. It was time to stop living in the past and start looking towards the future. But he wasn't entirely sure that either Pythagoras or Hercules was quite ready for that. It was a problem that he had been running over in his mind for a little while now. He would never want to hurt his friends or to seem ungrateful or uncaring but he needed to regain some measure of control over his own life; needed his friends to start trusting his reactions again; needed them to realise that he was not about to fall apart at a second's notice and that they could share the problems of the household with him without fear of upsetting him.

Of course that brought him right back to their current predicament. There was once again little food in the house – only enough for two meagre portions and not three. Whilst there was still a little money in the joint fund it all came down to a simple choice – food or medicine. Jason sighed. It should have been a simple thing. There really shouldn't have needed to be a choice at all. But then, when had their lives ever been that easy?

The winter storms had been particularly harsh this year from what his friends were telling him. More often than not Jason found himself trying to spend as little time as possible out of doors, where the icy wind howled bone-chillingly through the bare streets, punctuated by lashing rain storms. If you took the wind away it wouldn't really be all that cold – it certainly wasn't on the rare occasions that the frigid gusts died down – but as soon as another storm hit the temperature plummeted. A knock on effect from that was that there simply weren't the ships arriving at the docks at the moment. The journey along the storm lashed coast-line and into the Atlantian harbour was too dangerous for all but the most fool-hardy sailors to attempt. It meant that all casual work at the docks had dried up for the time being, leaving Jason once again unemployed. Perdikkas, the harbour-master, had been deeply apologetic and had assured the young man that as soon as the weather improved and vessels started to return to the harbour his job would be available once again. As it was there wasn't really enough work for the permanent dockers let alone a young man employed on a casual basis.

Of course even that should not have been too much of a problem. Yes money would have been a little tighter for a while but Pythagoras had been putting a little away for a while now to see them through the lean times and there were always other ways of earning a few pennies here and there. But then disaster had struck. Jason couldn't always bring himself to believe wholeheartedly in the Atlantian gods but right now he thought that they were probably laughing. Why was it that whenever things seemed to be going well for the three of them something came along and everything blew up in their faces once more? In this case it had arrived in the form of a particularly nasty and virulent epidemic. One of those illnesses that spring up from time to time and strike down large swathes of the population – particularly the elderly, the infirm or the very young. In this case it was a respiratory illness and the corpse bearers had been unable to keep up with demand – bodies piling high in their workshops as they awaited preparation and burial.

Many of the poorest could not afford the services of a doctor and as these were also generally the most vulnerable – the elderly and infirm – they had sought aid from alternative sources. Many simply went to the healing shrine at the Temple and prayed for deliverance, but others looked for help from those who had some small skills in the healing arts but were not officially recognised as doctors. It was then that Jason came to realise just how respected Pythagoras was. The young genius had, it appeared, something of a reputation as a healer and, as his kind heart would not let him turn the needy away, the demands on his time had increased as the epidemic had progressed. Pythagoras had spent much of the next few weeks heeding the call of those less fortunate than himself and had spent most of his time travelling through the deserted streets between the houses of the sick, tending to those he could and helping to ease the sufferings of those for whom healing came too late. He had grown tired and drawn, his pale face becoming increasingly haggard despite his two friends' attempts to relieve as much of his burden as they could.

Jason sighed. It had been inevitable, he supposed, that in the end Pythagoras had succumbed to the same illness he had been treating for so many weeks. He had woken one morning feverish and restless, his throat sore and his lungs congested. By that time the worst of the epidemic had passed and life for most of Atlantis was beginning to return to normal. In spite of Pythagoras' protestations that all he needed was a little rest Hercules had called in a physician and it had been as well that he had. Within days the young mathematician had become dangerously ill, tossing from side to side in his bed, delirious and unable to recognise his friends, his lungs so congested that at times it seemed he could barely breathe. He had recovered slowly – his youth and general good health acting in his favour – but it was a slow process and he still required plenty of care and healing tonics.

Most of the saved funds had gone on that of course. Neither Hercules nor Jason had felt the need to discuss the matter – Pythagoras' health was far more important. Still, the big man had completely failed to let Jason know just how low the money was getting. He disappeared each morning in search of work leaving his dark haired companion to look after their blonde friend. So far he had been unsuccessful. Jason had discovered by accident just how little money they really had and had taken notice of how little food there really was in the cupboard. Of course making sure that Pythagoras ate as much as he could and got the medicines that were necessary were the number one priority to his younger friend. After which Jason decided that Hercules probably needed whatever food was left more than he did – after all the burly wrestler spent most of the day tramping the streets in search of employment and only returned to the house after sundown, cold and tired. Barring a few scraps reserved for Isosceles the kitten, that accounted for most of the food – although Jason had been careful to ration it as much as possible to make it last for as long as possible. Consequently the young man had not eaten for the last three days and it looked like today would be no different, he thought grimly. In fact there really was only enough food left for one more meal for his two friends and the small amount of coins in his hand needed to be used for medicine for Pythagoras.

Actually it was time for the young mathematician to take another dose, the last of the tonic that they currently possessed. Once he had ensured that Pythagoras had swallowed it, had eaten and was as comfortable as possible, Jason would slip out to the agora to fetch some more from the apothecary's stall that had sprung up on the one corner. It charged exorbitant prices but there was no other choice. Whilst Pythagoras himself might have managed to brew up a decent healing tonic from herbs he had gathered were he in good health, neither one of his friends possessed the same sort of skill. Briefly Jason wondered whether he could stay out a little longer today – have a look for some work himself. It all depended on how well Pythagoras was. Hercules would kill him for leaving the young genius alone for too long but in the end it might be the only thing that stood between the three of them and starvation. It had got to the stage where Jason was even willing to swallow his pride and beg for help from any friends he might have. But who could he ask? Ariadne was still as distant as the moon up at the Palace. If she knew the situation she would undoubtedly help but the Palace had been sealed off for the duration of the epidemic and he had no way of getting word to her. Meriones was abroad on one of his business trips and Talos had quite sensibly chosen to remove Castiantiera to the countryside in the early days of the outbreak – reasoning that his beloved daughter would be safer away from the city. No, there really was no one he could ask for help.

Gathering up the herbal tonic that Pythagoras was to take and fixing a bowl of bread soaked in a little milk and honey for the mathematician to eat, Jason stood and prepared to take what little bits he had to his friend. As he rose a wave of light-headedness briefly overcame him and he wavered, holding on to the table until the dizziness had passed. It would not do to let Pythagoras know that he hadn't eaten in the last few days of course – would only serve to make the gentle young man worry and feel guilty – anymore than it would help to let Hercules know. He could stand it for a little while longer; was strong enough and healthy enough to last a few more days; and hopefully by that time either he or Hercules would have found some work and would have some money coming into the house.

Jason turned as the door opened. Hercules was back early it seemed.

"Everything alright?" he asked.

Hercules grunted.

"I needed food before I carried on," he said.

"There's bread on the shelves," Jason said softly.

Hercules crossed over and picked the bread up. Just as he was about to take a bite he paused and looked suspiciously at Jason.

"Where's yours?" he asked.

"I ate earlier," Jason answered with a smile, returning Hercules' hard look with an unwavering gaze of his own.

It was not actually a lie, he told himself, it was just that he hadn't said _how_ _much_ earlier. Somehow he didn't think his large friend would be very pleased to discover that "earlier" meant three days ago, particularly given how obsessive he felt the big man had become over his eating habits.

Finally Hercules nodded, clearly satisfied that Jason was telling the truth and wolfed down the small piece of bread he held in two short bites. Jason released the breath he had been holding silently and plastered on his best lop-sided grin.

"I'll be nipping out to the agora later to get some more tonic," he said. "Is there anything else we need?"

Hercules shifted uncomfortably, still not keen to admit to Jason that things were more than a little dire financially.

"Not that I can think of," he said, crossing his fingers behind his back and hoping against hope that he could find _something_ in the way of work today; something that would at least allow him to put a little food back on the table. "Right," he added with false cheerfulness, "the bills are not going to pay themselves. There's money to be made so best I get at it."

As Hercules went back to walking the streets looking for work, Jason made his way across to Pythagoras' room and pulled back the light curtain. The mathematician lay, pale and wan, dozing on his bed, propped up by as many pillows as could be found in the house. He didn't look quite as pale as yesterday, Jason noted, and although his breath still rattled in his chest it was nowhere near as loud as it had been. Pythagoras was most definitely on the mend. Hopefully he would be beginning to be up and around in a few days. Jason paused, taking in the thin frame and the limp blonde curls. Pythagoras had risked his life to help others – the way that he had for Jason so many times in the past – and had very nearly paid the ultimate price. Jason could not – would not – let him down.

Gradually the young man opened his eyes and blinked sleepily at his friend. Jason allowed his forced grin to become wider as he made his way over to Pythagoras' bed and perched on the edge.

"I brought you something to eat," he said lightly.

"What about you?" Pythagoras asked, as astute as ever. "Have you eaten?"

"I told Hercules I ate earlier," Jason managed to evade the question fairly neatly. "It's not much – just a bit of bread and milk – but I thought it would slip down nice and easily."

Pythagoras made a face.

"I'm not really all that hungry," he ventured.

"Come on," Jason coaxed. "You need to keep your strength up. Besides if it was me lying there you'd never let me get away with it."

Pythagoras smiled, a pale shadow of his usual expression, acknowledging the truth of what his friend said. They had been in the opposite situation before with Pythagoras trying to persuade Jason to eat when he was clearly unwell and didn't feel like it – and he had most definitely not allowed the other young man to get away with not eating. Slowly he nodded and drank the frankly vile tonic that the healer had suggested, shuddering slightly at the taste. Truthfully he believed that he could brew something much more effective and certainly more palatable himself but as at present that was not an option – and as he could not ask either of his friends to do it (Jason's grasp of herb lore was rudimentary to say the least and the gods only knew what Hercules would come up with) – he was stuck taking the awful concoction that Jason went to the apothecary to purchase. Pythagoras sighed. It went against his nature to put his friends to so much trouble but he could not even seem to get up the energy to get out of bed at the moment. The healer in him recognised that it would be better for everyone if he stayed put and allowed his body to heal and it did feel sort of nice to have someone else fussing around him for a change – even if that someone clearly wasn't all that sure about what he was doing and wasn't used to nursing anyone.

Tonic drunk, he turned to the small bowl of bread and milk that Jason had brought, noting with pleasure that his friend had not overfilled the bowl in the same way that Hercules would. Perhaps Jason understood that his appetite was poor at the moment. Something in his companion's face worried him though – a tiredness in those hazel eyes that did not belong there. Meal finished he turned back to Jason determined to get to the bottom of what his friend was thinking.

"Is everything alright?" he asked softly.

Jason ruthlessly suppressed a wince. Even sick Pythagoras was still one of the most perceptive and astute men he knew. For everyone's sake he could not afford to falter though. Somehow he just needed to earn a few small coins. Just enough to buy them a decent loaf of bread and everything would be fine. But oh gods he was so hungry right now that he almost felt faint. Willing his stomach not to rumble and give him away he smiled brightly at Pythagoras as he fixed the young man's pillows and drew the blanket a bit more firmly over his friend.

"Everything's fine," he said firmly. "I was just working out what I needed to get from the agora. I need to nip out and get some more tonic if you'll be alright on your own for a bit?"

"I will be quite alright," Pythagoras affirmed. "I doubt I will need the tonic for much longer though." He broke off as a hacking cough bubbled wetly from his throat.

"No of course you won't," Jason retorted sarcastically. He stood up quickly and picked up the bowl and cup from the floor by the bed. "Look just let yourself have a bit of a kip and I'll be back before you know it."

"A bit of a what?" Pythagoras asked with genuine confusion. He was by now used to most of Jason's strange sayings and phrases – even if he didn't always understand what they meant – but once in a while one of them would still catch him unawares.

"Go to sleep, Pythagoras," Jason said with a sigh. "You'll get better much quicker if you get some rest… isn't that what you always tell me?"

With one final check around him Jason headed out of the room, carefully pulling the curtain behind him, and crossed the room, intent on making his way to the agora and finding some sort of work.

* * *

A rare break in the winter storms had convinced Minos that now would be a good time to go back out into the city and make his presence known amongst the people once again. The recent epidemic had confined the royal household to the Palace for weeks now; the risk that the King, with his less than robust constitution, or Ariadne, as sole heir to the throne, might contract the fever had been far too great to take. For herself Pasiphae had been completely unafraid. She had he constitution of an ox and her special abilities and knowledge of herb lore meant that she was unlikely to contract anything unless she had prolonged exposure to it.

Ariadne had found being confined to the Palace particularly hard, believing that her duty was to help her people as much as possible; to be seen amongst them in their hour of need. If the risks had been less then it would have been a clever political move, Pasiphae conceded as she sat at her dressing table brushing her long hair. The people would have loved their Princess even more for sharing in their sorrows and misfortunes. Innocent little Ariadne was becoming politically very astute, although in this case her stepmother believed that her desire to show solidarity with the beleaguered populous actually had more to do with both a misguided sense of duty and affection towards the people and the desire to check on the well-being of a certain dark haired young man.

Minos, however, had been adamant. He had told his daughter in no uncertain terms that her duty was to stay alive for the sake of the future of Atlantis and that she would therefore not be risking her life, or the lives of the other residents of the Palace, by making any unwise and ill-conceived visits into the city. The King had even gone as far as having the passageway between the Palace and Temple temporarily sealed and every door to the outside world locked and guarded to prevent his somewhat impulsive daughter from attempting to circumvent his rules.

The Palace had its own water supply of course and enough food in the storerooms to withstand months of siege. Still it was an inconvenience for Pasiphae to be locked inside with her husband and her despised stepdaughter – although the knowledge of the secret that they both shared had improved relations between the two women of late and, if they were still not exactly cordial, they were at least not at war at present.

Life over the last month had fallen into a routine – a tedious routine – and Pasiphae had awoken this morning with no real expectation that today would be any different from yesterday or the day before. The written summons from Minos, informing her that with the plague subsiding and the weather easing he would be riding out into his city to see and be seen and would expect her presence at his side, had come as somewhat of a surprise. Pasiphae did not like surprises. To her mind they only occurred as a result of poor planning – something she strove to avoid wherever possible.

She strode down the corridors towards the stables clad in her riding gear, barely registering the frightened looks and genuflections of those she passed. The recent epidemic had been an inconvenience. Had prevented her from implementing the first phase of her scheme to make Minos aware of her son's existence and to reconcile her husband to the boy's presence; to ensure that the King did not view Jason as a threat and to persuade him to allow the boy to live at her side. The King's mood had been black for weeks now because of the situation in the city and as a result the Queen had not dared to risk her son's safety by making any rash moves.

And just how had Jason fared in a city besieged by disease? Pasiphae knew that this illness was most dangerous to the infirm, the very young or the elderly and Jason fell into none of those groups. But he had also not been raised in Atlantis. Would he therefore be more susceptible to their diseases? Pasiphae shuddered at the thought. No, Jason was young and healthy and strong. She had no reason to believe that he had even caught the fever; had no reason to believe that he was anything less than robust and healthy. And yet her mind had conjured all sorts of horrific images over the last month. What was the use of all her power and wealth, she wondered bitterly, if she could not help – could not protect – the one person that actually meant something to her? The one person she longed to be able to acknowledge and openly show her love for. It was worth next to nothing, she decided, when her son had been trapped in the city with disease all around him and the death toll growing daily and she had been unable to do anything to help him. And Jason did not _belong_ there; did not belong amongst those _peasants_. It all seemed so unfair somehow.

With gentle hands she started to ready her sleek chestnut horse. She could have demanded that a servant prepare the beast for her of course, but in truth she preferred to see to the task herself. The beast was noble and highly strung and over the years she had owned him they had come to understand one another. The task of saddling her horse was one that she found peculiarly soothing. He was restive today and she soothed him with soft words as she carded her hand through his mane.

"He is a truly beautiful creature," Minos voice made her jump.

The horse nickered uneasily and moved awkwardly, clearly feeling her surprise.

"Much like his mistress," the King continued.

Pasiphae smiled coolly. It had been a long time since her husband had paid her a compliment of that nature and she found that it sat uneasily in her mind.

"You are too kind My Lord," she murmured.

"I speak only the truth," Minos asserted, coming forward and resting a hand on the dark mane. "You are ready." It was not phrased as a question.

"I am My Lord," Pasiphae confirmed, swinging herself up into the saddle.

Minos' horse was being prepared for him, she noted as she rode out into the courtyard to join the other members of her husband's retinue who were to venture into the city today. There was much muted grumbling amongst the courtiers. It amused Pasiphae to hear it. Many of those present were toadies and sycophants and would never dare to openly say no to their King or to allow him to hear them complain about this outing. It was obvious, however, that most of these fat, flattering fools felt that it was still too dangerous to be going out into a city where the epidemic still lingered – although it had largely died out – and resented the fact that they were being asked to risk their own skins – particularly this early in the morning. They were careful to keep their complaints quiet though and several openly cast fearful looks in the Queen's direction. They all knew that she could be terrible indeed when provoked.

Pasiphae smiled openly as Minos came out into the square and moved to greet him, playing the part of the dutiful wife to perfection as always.

"Ariadne will not be joining us My Lord?" she asked smoothly.

Minos smiled at the mention of his beloved daughter.

"No," he said. "Much as I feel the danger has largely abated I would still not risk her life unnecessarily. She will await our return anxiously." He smiled again. "I must confess that I think that Ariadne is hoping that the situation in the city will have improved enough to allow her to recommence her duties at the Temple. I have promised her that I will lift some of the current restrictions if that is indeed the case."

Pasiphae fought the urge to smirk knowingly. It was not her duties at the Temple that the Princess was missing she was sure. Sometimes Minos was remarkably naïve when it came to his daughter, still seeing her as the innocent little girl and not the strong young woman she had become. And it was typical, she reflected bitterly. He was more than willing to risk the health of his wife but not that of his daughter.

Something in her face must have alerted Minos to some of her feelings although he misread them completely. Drawing his horse nearer to hers he rested a hand on her shoulder.

"If you do not wish to come into the city I will understand my love," he said softly so that no-one could overhear them. "I would not have you risk yourself if you are not comfortable. I truly believe that there will be no danger to either one of us from this contagion now, but if you wish to remain here then I will raise no objection. I simply believed that it would be good for the people to see that we are unharmed and are sharing in their troubles by riding through the streets."

Pasiphae bristled slightly at the implication that she might be in anyway afraid. Minos did not know her well at all, despite the long years of their marriage, if that was what he truly believed. He is trying to be kind, she reminded herself. He is trying to spare me any discomfort. She raised an eyebrow coolly.

"I have not complained," she murmured, "and nor will I do so. I am in no way afraid for my own health. I merely worry that this excursion is unwise for you My Lord. If you believe that this is a risk that is worth your while to take then you will not find me wanting. I will be at your side every step of the way."

A brief smile graced Minos' thin face. His wife truly was a remarkable woman, he reflected. He took comfort frequently in her strength and her fire. Pasiphae was formidable at the best of times and when danger or disaster threatened she was a force to be reckoned with.

"Then we will ride out together," he declared. His eyes softened as he regarded her. "I take such comfort from your strength," he murmured.

As they rode out through the Palace gateway Pasiphae looked around herself grimly. It was unlikely that she would see Jason in the streets and even if she did she could not acknowledge the fact. And yet the mother in her jumped at the chance to reassure herself that the young man had come through the recent epidemic unscathed. If she could just see him… she ruthlessly clamped down on that thought. It would do no one any good for her to start acting like a needy and hysterical woman. She had never done it before and saw no reason to begin now.

The streets were beginning to return to their usual level of bustle and activity. Now the immediate threat of disease had passed, the merchants were once again beginning to hawk their wares in the agora and the populous was once again coming out of their houses to buy them. Here and there a market stall stood empty though, evidence of another citizen who would not return. Soon new traders would fill the empty slots but for now they acted as a reminder to the people of the sorrow they had so recently lived through. In a side street one of the death carts trundled along, evidence that the corpse buriers were still hard at work. The Queen's sharp eyes caught sight of it at once although she chose not to draw the attention of anyone in their party to its presence. There was no point upsetting the whining courtiers any more than they already were and really Minos was correct – there was little risk to any of their party now.

As they rounded a corner, horses moving at a brisk walk, the citizens dropped to one knee and bowed their heads as was customary in the presence of the royal family. Then she saw him. Jason was near the corner, by a stall that advertised the wares of a travelling apothecary who she noted dispassionately was distinctly overpriced. As they approached he dropped down like his fellow citizens, head bowed. The sight made Pasiphae's blood boil. _Her_ son should not need to genuflect like a peasant – and certainly not in the presence of the snivelling toadies that accompanied her husband everywhere.

The Queen's eyes narrowed as she looked at Jason appraisingly – although she was careful to make it appear as though she was merely looking around the market square with her usual indifference. It would not do to draw attention to Jason by making others believe that she had some special interest in him; she could not expose him to that risk until she was ready to make her move and claim the boy as her own.

He looked well, she decided gratefully, although maybe a little tired and worried – but perhaps that was only to be expected given the recent situation in the city – and she was gratified to note that he seemed to have found some slightly more respectable clothes for once. Not that they were really suitable for a prince of course but at least they made him look a little less like a beggar and the tunic certainly looked a little warmer than his normal one.

The wind was beginning to pick up again. Pasiphae shivered slightly and drew her cloak a little tighter around her shoulders. Just ahead of her Minos was clearly impatient to move on; keen to see as much of the main city as he could and then return to the Palace before the weather closed in again. The Queen risked one final glance back over her shoulder as the party exited the market place. Jason had stood up as soon as the royal party had passed and returned to his business with the apothecary. What that business was Pasiphae did not know. As he himself appeared to be well perhaps one of his friends had fallen ill. She frowned at the thought that her son might have been exposed so closely to this contagion. The politician in her understood the need to keep Jason's parentage a secret at this moment in time and to wait to reveal the truth until the timing was most propitious and would give her the best possible outcome and the most political power; the mother, however, wanted nothing more than to scoop her son up and take him home, where she could be sure that she could keep him safe. Over the last month, with the fever raging in the city, she had nearly gone out of her mind with worry. When had she become so weak and irrational? She had always been a thoroughly political animal; completely focussed on her goals. And yet lately all it seemed to take was the glimpse of some dark curly hair or the sight of a young man running and her thoughts circled back once more to Jason. This current obsession had to stop. It would be better once he was living at the Palace she decided. When she could see him every day then he would no longer have to occupy so much of her waking thought.

As though he could feel her eyes on him, Jason turned and looked directly at his mother. For a moment their eyes met. Pasiphae nearly smiled. There it was. The spark that made Jason, Jason. The direct look that was almost a challenge and was certainly unafraid. He was brave, her boy. Few had ever dared to look at Pasiphae with such directness; without the subservience that she had become accustomed to. His posture had dropped back defensively – as though he expected an attack – but his dark eyes remained calm and unafraid whatever he was really feeling.

He thinks I will harm him, Pasiphae thought with a wrenching feeling. It was unpleasant to realise that her own son was wary of her; did not trust her. He does not know who I am, she reminded herself; he does not know what he is to me. She had been staring at him for too long. Had been careless and was beginning to attract the attention of her husband who had turned back to look at her curiously. With a jerk she forced her eyes back to the front before Minos could follow her gaze and see just what had captured her attention. Do not look back at him again, she repeated the mantra to herself; do not expose either yourself or him in that way. With a forced smile made natural through years of practice she rode forwards to re-join her husband and turned the corner, her son lost in the crowds behind. The Palace lay ahead. Now that she had assured herself of Jason's well-being it was time to begin her campaign to claim his as her own.

* * *

Jason frowned. He had felt the Queen's eyes on him the way he had several times in the past. Yet this time had been different somehow. Always before her eyes had seemed to burn right through him. This time they had contained something different. If he didn't know any better he would almost have said that it was concern – affection even – although it had been well hidden. The gaze she had directed at him had seemed softer, more human. Mentally he shrugged. Whatever Pasiphae's game was he would be ready for an attack. The woman was after all a homicidal witch with megalomaniac tendencies. She was not someone to be underestimated and certainly not someone to be trusted. She hated Ariadne and by extension therefore hated him as well.

Ariadne. He sighed softly. As always the beautiful girl was rarely from his thoughts. He smiled softly wondering what she was doing now.

"Oi! Did you want to pay for this or not?" the harsh voice drew him from his daydream.

Jason turned back to the glowering merchant with some consternation.

"Sorry," he mumbled as he reached into the small pouch tucked inside his belt and withdrew the last of the shared funds, handing them to the apothecary. The few small coins he received in return would not even be enough to buy a small loaf of bread.

Jason sighed. He had known that before he had come to the agora but it still left an unpleasant feeling to know just how close they were all coming to starvation once again. Still it could not be helped. If Pythagoras was to continue to get better then he needed to keep taking the medicine contained in the bottle that Jason now wrapped carefully in a cloth and tucked beneath the folds of the cloak he wore against the winter winds.

The cloak had been a present from Meriones, as had the tunic he now wore – long sleeved and made of soft and warm wool. The giant had turned up at the house one day with winter tunics for both Jason and Pythagoras. He had told them that they were the samples he had had Talos make up to check the quality of the workmanship and that he therefore could not sell them. It was a fiction he maintained of course so that his young friends would not feel as though he were offering them charity. As it was the tunics had been gratefully accepted with thanks – although both boys were looking for ways to repay the enormous merchant.

The bottle of medicine that he had tucked inside his cloak was important – precious even – given that they had no way of affording any more at the present time. Perhaps it would be a good idea to take the bottle home where it would be safe before going out in search of work. Plus it would allow him to make sure that Pythagoras was well enough to be left for a little longer.

Decision made, Jason turned and hurried back towards home.

* * *

Three hours later Jason was just about ready to admit defeat. There really was no work to be found at the moment it seemed. The combination of winter storms and the recent epidemic had driven merchants away from Atlantis and closed down building projects as well as the port. He stopped for a minute crossing back through the agora to ease his aching feet. Everyone seemed so grim right now and a dark pall seemed to hang over the city depressing the spirits of the inhabitants and making them less than willing to help one another.

Jason sighed. He supposed he would feel a lot more optimistic if his stomach wasn't quite so empty. A little while ago he had stopped by one of the fountains and drank more water than was perhaps good for him in an almost desperate attempt to ease the gnawing ache that had taken up residence in his belly. Now the water sloshed uneasily in his stomach and he grimaced at the feeling. The truth was that he knew he wouldn't be able to go on like this for much longer; knew that he was pushing himself to the limit. But for the sake of his friends he had to go on. Had to at least _try_ to make things better; to find some way of earning a few coins. With renewed determination he moved on, asking at every stall he passed whether anyone needed any errands running.

It was not to be his lucky day it seemed. No-one had any work. He paused again for a moment and instinctively reached out to grab a nearby stall to support himself feeling decidedly shaky and sick to his stomach as dizziness darkened the edges of his vision briefly. He closed his eyes to ride out the wave, opening them as the dizziness passed to look into the concerned face of Egina the milk seller.

"Are you alright lad?" she asked sharply.

"Yeah," Jason answered. "Sorry. I was just… thinking. I didn't mean to do any harm to your stall."

Egina waved off his apology with one hand.

"You've done no harm at all," she said. She narrowed her eyes as she looked at him noting the absence of a milk jug or amphora. "You're not here for milk though are you?"

Jason looked momentarily abashed.

"No," he admitted. "I was going around the stalls looking for work. Seeing if anyone had any errands they needed running. I haven't had much luck though."

"Times are hard," Egina agreed. She looked hard at the young man not liking how pale he looked – although some colour seemed to be returning to him as they spoke. "There's lots in the city that are starving."

She watched the lad tense. Ah, so that was what was wrong. She had managed to push pieces of cheese on the young man before as gifts but somehow she knew that if she tried that this time he would refuse; would view it as charity. She could almost feel the desperation in him warring with his pride. Besides, even if she gave _him_ some food now there was still the two friends he was usually with. It was likely that they were all in the same position. Well she might not be able to feed them directly but there was certainly something she could do – not a lot to be sure but at least it would be better than nothing.

"As it happens I have a couple of errands that I need running lad," she said briskly. "I can't leave the stall at the moment so I could use your help. I won't be able to pay you much but it might at least keep the wolf from the door."

Much to Egina's confusion Jason couldn't help but blush at the mention of a wolf, remembering what had happened the last time he and his friends had run out of money.

"That would be great," he said. "It's Jason by the way… my name I mean."

Egina smiled.

"Well Jason," she said, "I have two jugs of milk that will need delivering to Glauce over by the Thálassas Gate. You won't be able to miss her house. It has all sort of pans hanging up outside it. Glauce is almost blind now and doesn't venture far from home, poor thing, but she says that the clanking of the pans help her to know when someone is coming to visit. After that I need you to take these cheeses to Abantes. He's one of the city guards and right now he should be patrolling the wall above the Telapius Gate. Normally he can wait for his order until after he has come off duty but I gather that it's his daughter's birthday and his wife has insisted that he goes straight home. She's a formidable woman, Abantes' wife – I certainly wouldn't like to argue with her – and neither does he apparently. I'll pay you for the errands now to save you having to come back here afterwards. You come to me for milk and, even if you didn't I know you have to pass my stall most days, so I know that you won't cheat me – not that I think you would anyway. I'm usually a pretty good judge of character."

Jason looked down at the handful of coins Egina had thrust at him. It would be enough to feed the three of them for nearly a week if they were careful and his calculations were correct. It was certainly more than he had expected to get from running a couple of errands. His conscience pricked him.

"You're paying me too much," he protested.

"Nonsense," Egina declared. "You're going to be doing me a big favour. Now here are the jugs and the cheeses, so get along with you. And don't let me see you back here until you've got some food inside you," she added with a significant glare.

Jason chuckled to himself as he trotted off to run the errands for the motherly woman. Egina it seemed was quite a force to be reckoned with herself and frighteningly perceptive.

Later, as he made his way back along the city walls he reflected on the errands that the milk seller had employed him for. Glauce had been a sweet old lady, riddled with what he guessed was probably arthritis and, as Egina had said, nearly blind. He had never had a grandmother but Glauce was everything he had ever imagined a grandmother might be like – she seemed to come straight out of a fairy tale. He had found that she was almost desperate for company and had sat with her listening to her stories for the better part of an hour before he had had to wrench himself away to complete his other delivery, having promised to visit the old lady again sometime in the near future. Abantes, on the other hand, had been terse and largely uncommunicative, receiving his goods with a brief expression of thanks before returning to his duties.

Now Jason was more than ready to go home. The blackness that had been lurking at the edges of his vision had increased and dark spots danced across his eyes occasionally. This was not good, he decided as he swallowed down a wave of dizziness. Perhaps it would be a good idea to purchase a little bread on his way home and to eat as soon as he got there. He could always go out later to buy supplies for the house.

As he reached the steps that led down from the wall a voice calling his name made him pause and turn quickly. Gelo, Meriones' right hand man, was approaching along the wall and had called out in greeting. Jason raised his hand vaguely. As it turned out though turning so quickly had not been a good idea. The world tilted alarmingly around him and he lurched sideways, his feet scrabbling at the very edge of the steps. The blackness at the edges of his vision spread rapidly, blinding him and he heard a rushing sound in his ears that almost obliterated Gelo's anxious cry. Jason had the vague sensation of falling and his last conscious thought before blackness claimed him was that Hercules and Pythagoras were really not going to be happy about this. Then he knew no more.


	2. Chapter 2

Gelo had seen Jason making his way towards the stairs that led from the top of the city wall to the street and had hurried to catch up. Having been out of town with Meriones on a long business trip he had been pleased to see the walls of Atlantis rising up ahead of them in the distance as they rode down towards the city. The journey home had been made longer and more complicated than it should have been by the high winds and heavy storms lashing the coastline and making it impossible for them to find a ship's captain in Athens that had been willing to risk sailing along the Atlantian coastline and into the harbour. Consequently what should have been a straight journey had become an island hopping logistical nightmare lasting several days longer than necessary, as they were forced to negotiate with different sea captains every stretch of the way just to get them a little further onwards, and culminating in a long ride down to Atlantis itself. Gelo had to admit that he had never been more pleased to see his home.

It had therefore come as something of a shock to ride into the city last night and find the streets – usually teeming with people even at that time of the evening – almost deserted and a frightened atmosphere hanging in the air. This was a city under siege – albeit from disease rather than an invading army – weakened and isolated. Unsure as to what had effected the change in the usual atmosphere Gelo had been despatched to find Kerkyon and find out what was going on. The burly blonde had filled them in thoroughly. Gelo had watched Meriones' brow furrow in concern, his usually jolly face darkening. The giant had sighed and poured himself an extra-large cup of wine bidding his employees – although by now they were more like friends – to do the same. Over dinner he had noted that this would be an excellent time for a rival city to make an attack. The populous was severely depleted, debilitated by illness and prey to their own fears. An invading army would meet little resistance at the present moment. And everyone knew that the city had its enemies. It was a miracle that they had not been attacked already given the state they had been in, although, as Meriones observed, it would perhaps be a better idea for a rival state to wait for the plague to die down somewhat before invading – there would be little point in risking the health of their own army while death still stalked the streets of Atlantis.

Now though, with the contagion dying away, the city would be ripe for the picking. Gelo sighed. He had been sent out this morning to gather more information from one of Meriones' more reliable sources – one of the city guard who had over the years provided very useful (and usually extremely accurate) information and had lined his pockets with a little extra money in return. On his way back he had spotted Jason and, knowing that Meriones would like news of his friends – would like to make sure that they were all alright – called out to the young man.

His friendly greeting had died on his lips as the lad turned, however, and swayed dangerously on his feet, lurching slightly to one side as his face drained of all colour. With horror Gelo had cried out to the young man anxiously as Jason's eyes rolled back in his head and, unable to reach the lad quickly enough, had seen him collapse. He was simply too close to the top of the stairs and, as Gelo raced along the wall, had fallen like a rag doll, landing at the bottom in a tumbled heap.

Gelo would never know how he managed to get to the bottom of the steps as quickly as he did without falling himself, taking them two and three at a time, and all the time praying to whatever gods were listening – please don't be dead, please don't be dead. How would he _ever_ be able to take that sort of news back to Meriones? Or even worse Hercules and Pythagoras? He had seen enough of the three men by now to know just how close they really were. As he scrambled over to the spot where Jason lay prone he was scarcely aware of the small, fearful crowd that had gathered and were muttering quietly to themselves, terrified that another victim of the recent contagion had appeared in their midst. With a sigh of relief he realised that the young man's chest was rising and falling steadily.

A noise from the rapidly gathering crowd made him look up in time to see Kerkyon and an extremely worried looking and white faced Hercules pushing their way through from opposite directions. A groaning sound from by his knees drew his attention back to the young man on the ground. Jason was beginning to come around already although he still looked frightfully pale.

"I'll get a doctor," Kerkyon grunted.

"Bring him to Hercules' house," Gelo answered absently not really taking his eyes off Jason.

As Hercules dropped to his knees on the other side of his young friend, Gelo glanced up at him.

"What happened?" the bulky wrestler demanded.

"He fainted," Gelo murmured quietly, not wanting the crowd to hear what he was saying. "Unfortunately he was at the top of the steps at the time and fell."

If anything Hercules' face paled even further.

"Oh gods," he muttered. "I thought… when I saw him lying here…" he took a deep breath and shuddered. "Haven't we already been through enough?" he demanded quietly. "Pythagoras is not well yet but I thought that at least Jason had managed to escape catching the fever."

"Pythagoras has had the contagion?" Gelo asked with a frown.

"He's on the mend," Hercules waved him off with one hand as he reached out with the other to brush Jason's dark hair back from his forehead. "There's no fever," he murmured as his fingers slid across the young man's face. "Thank the gods! But why would he faint then?"

A soft moan from Jason at the touch of Hercules' hand alerted both men to the fact that he was becoming ever more conscious – was struggling to wake up.

"Jason," Hercules encouraged softly, "open your eyes for me there's a good lad."

Slowly, painfully slowly, the hazel eyes blinked open and peered up at them in some confusion. Before Jason could even attempt to sit up Gelo placed a gently restraining hand on his chest.

"Gently," he admonished, "you've taken quite a tumble."

Neither of the older men failed to notice the pained grimace that graced Jason's face as he rolled carefully from the position he had landed in half on his side onto his back nor the way he let himself rest for a moment against Hercules' knees, eyes closed against a brief resurgence of the dizziness that he had clearly experienced at the top of the wall. Presently though he reopened his eyes and pushed himself up a little until he was resting a bit more comfortably against his big friend's lap.

"Sorry," he murmured with more than a little embarrassment.

"Don't be sorry," Hercules rumbled running a hand through the dark curls, checking Jason's scalp for unseen injuries. "I'm just worried about you. The only time I've ever seen you faint before was when you were ill."

Jason shifted painfully and looked down at his hands guiltily. He had a fairly good idea of why he had passed out and knew that Hercules would be less than happy when he found out the reason.

Hercules noticed the way that Jason refused to meet his eyes. His own eyes narrowed. He knew that expression only too well. Jason was feeling guilty about something and didn't want to admit to what that something was. Much as he wanted to interrogate the young man and find out what the problem was, now was not the time. There would be time enough for Jason to confess to whatever it was he thought he had done wrong when they got home. First things first though he needed to ascertain how badly his friend was hurt – after all he could not believe that the lad would have fallen down the steps from the wall and got away completely unscathed. Although this was Jason so you never could tell. Knowing his friend's propensity for making light of injuries, however, Hercules decided to tackle the problem head on. If the lad was badly hurt it would be better to know the worst now.

"Right," he said gently but firmly. "Where are you hurt? And don't even _think_ of trying to tell me that you're not!"

Jason bit his lip and grimaced again.

"My ribs are a bit sore," he admitted softly, "but my right knee's the worst of it. I think I wrenched it or something when I fell."

Hercules nodded, looking hard at his friend. That didn't sound too bad and at least it seemed Jason was being honest about what hurt, although he knew only too well that the lad could have hidden injuries that even _he_ was unaware of. Still they wouldn't know about that until they had had a healer look him over properly. For now he just needed to get the young man home.

"No pain in your back or neck?" he asked.

"No," Jason stated firmly.

"Good," Hercules rumbled. "I think you can probably try sitting up properly then."

Jason carefully started to push himself up, wincing as his ribcage protested. He felt seriously shaky – probably a mixture of lack of food and shock, he decided – and still more than a little dizzy.

Hercules watched him closely, noting the way the lad's arms trembled as he moved, and positioned himself to catch Jason if he fell back again. Once it was certain that the young man was able to sit up unaided he turned his attention to Gelo who was carefully wrapping Jason's knee as best he could, immobilising the joint as much as possible until it could be looked at properly.

"Can you help me get him home?" Hercules asked seriously.

Gelo half smiled.

"Of course my friend," he said quietly. "Even if I did not want to help I think Meriones would kill me if I did not. As it is I am as anxious as you to get you both back to your home where the doctor can see to Jason's hurts."

Jason looked up sharply.

"I don't need a doctor," he protested. "I'll be alright, really I will."

Hercules frowned.

"Of course you're going to see a doctor," he growled. "After a fall like that I'm surprised you didn't break your neck you young fool. Kerkyon's already gone to fetch a healer and you're going to see him whether you like it or not. I need to make sure you're not hurt worse than we think. Normally Pythagoras could do it but he's just not well enough yet and I don't want him worrying about anything other than getting well."

"But we can't afford it," Jason blurted before he could stop himself, biting his lip as soon as he realised what he had said.

Hercules winced. So Jason had worked out that they were once again short on funds. Hercules had hoped to save his friend from that worry. He still wasn't fully convinced that the lad was completely back to normal and had wanted to spare him as much stress as possible. He really ought to have known better, he supposed. For all that Jason seemed to be more than a bit unobservant or naïve at times, he could, when the occasion demanded it, be worryingly perceptive – usually at the worst possible moments when his friends wished he wasn't.

Gelo looked between the two of them seriously.

"Do not worry yourself about that," he said. "The doctor who Kerkyon has gone to collect owes Meriones several favours and a rather large gambling debt. The man is a drunkard and the worst gambler I have ever met but he is a brilliant physician. I can guarantee that he will offer his services free of charge just for the chance to repay a little of what he owes."

Hercules nodded gratefully. Truthfully he had had no idea how they would have paid for the services of a doctor as he had found no work again that day, but he was not willing to risk Jason's health. As it was though it seemed that his oldest friend was once more coming to the rescue without even being present. He shuddered to think just how much he owed to Meriones.

"Right then," he muttered. "Let's see if we can't get you up on your feet and off home." He was fully prepared to carry his friend if he needed to but realised that Jason's own pride would not allow that without at least trying to do it himself. Not for the first time Hercules found himself cursing his young friend's independent and stubborn nature.

Carefully, with Hercules hovering on one side and Gelo on the other, Jason began to lever himself up from the floor, wincing more deeply and making unconscious little moans of distress as the ache in his ribs increased. As he stood up another wave of dizziness hit him – albeit weaker than before – and he cried out sharply in pain as he tried to put weight on his leg, his right knee buckling slightly in spite of the wrapping that Gelo had put on it, clutching at Hercules for support.

To do him credit the big man didn't utter a word. He simply slung Jason's arm around his shoulders and put his own arm gently around the lad's waist, acting as a sort of human crutch.

The crowd had begun to disappear as they realised there was nothing more to see. At least that would allow them to pass through more easily, Hercules grimly thought, and they weren't too far from home either, thank the gods.

With Gelo supporting Jason on the other side, Hercules turned carefully and slowly began to make the short journey home.

* * *

By the time they had got back home Hercules was beyond worried and frustrated. The short journey through the streets had seemed to take forever and it was only a death glare from Jason whenever he even thought about it that had prevented the big man from picking his younger friend up and simply carrying him home. They certainly would have got there much quicker, Hercules thought with some irritation. As it was he was supporting more than half of Jason's weight by the time they got to the kitchen. The walk upstairs had been particularly hard and Hercules had been sorely tempted to ignore Jason's protests and throw him over his shoulder just to save the lad some pain. He carefully deposited his friend on a bench at the kitchen table, gently reached down to unclasp the cloak from around the young man's shoulders and began to lift the hem of his tunic in preparation for the doctor's arrival. Jason, Hercules noted with some dismay, was shaking – faint tremors that racked his body. It was probably from shock the big man decided, although he was not really all that sure what to do about it. The truth was that he usually left most matters of health and healing to Pythagoras. He himself had never had the interest in or the patience to learn the healing arts and his skills were limited to patching up injuries sustained in the wrestling ring in a rudimentary fashion.

"So what on earth were you doing at the top of the city walls anyway?" Hercules asked. Jason was clearly shaken up and the burly wrestler hoped to distract him somewhat even as he continued to strip away the lad's tunic to see what injuries lay underneath.

"I was running a couple of errands for Egina the milk seller," Jason answered softly, his voice low and pained. "She paid me to deliver a few things and I thought we could use the money." He reached into the waistband of his trousers and withdrew a small money pouch, tossing it on the table where it landed with a clatter of coins.

Hercules let out an explosive breath.

"You were supposed to be staying here and making sure that Pythagoras was alright," he pointed out.

"I know," Jason answered, "but I didn't think I'd be gone all that long and I made sure he was comfortable and had dropped off to sleep before I went." He still felt very weak and shaky and fought the urge to ask his older friend for a hug, telling himself that he was being childish.

Hercules looked at his young companion with a frown. That Jason had not objected to his larger friend essentially beginning to undress him worried Hercules far more than the rapidly swelling knee or the purpling bruises decorating the lad's ribcage and upper body. The bulky wrestler winced at how beaten up his young friend looked. By the looks of things Jason was going to be dreadfully stiff and sore for a few days just from the sheer amount of bruising alone. Frowning to himself the big man crossed to the cupboards and picked up the last wine skin – purchased some weeks ago and saved by Pythagoras for emergencies. Hercules had found it hidden behind some bowls in the cupboard several days earlier at a point where it looked like the young mathematician might die and had sat staring at it for hours, knowing that he needed a drink perhaps more than he had ever done before but equally knowing that if he started to drink it he would not be able to stop. Since then he had rationed it carefully, aware of the fact that they did not have any money to spend on wine and knowing that he had to make it last. Contrary to popular opinion Hercules was not as stupid, as selfish or as insensitive as he sometimes made him himself out to be.

Now though the skin only contained enough wine for one final drink. The big man poured it out carefully so as not to waste a single drop and stood for a moment looking at it almost reverently. He sighed. Much as he would like to consume the contents in one go to calm his still frazzled nerves he thought that Jason probably needed it more than he did. Picking up the cup he crossed over to the table and offered it to his friend.

Jason looked up with a weak smile.

"Thanks," he said, "but I probably shouldn't. Drinking on an empty stomach isn't a good idea."

Hercules frowned.

"I thought you said that you ate earlier," he said suspiciously.

"I did tell you that," Jason said awkwardly, looking everywhere but at his friend. "It was a while ago though so I should probably eat something else before I try drinking alcohol… Besides I'm not really thirsty," he finished lamely.

Hercules opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by the sound of a knock at the door which heralded the arrival of Kerkyon with the doctor in tow. Gelo hurried across the room to open it, grateful to have something to do. He had felt like an intruder for the past few minutes – ever since they had arrived really – although he appreciated the fact that neither of his companions had intended that. It was simply that he was an outsider in their home and really had no idea where anything was or how he could help.

The appearance of the physician did not immediately inspire Hercules with confidence. It was most definitely not the same man they had called in at the start of Pythagoras' sickness – a tall, arrogant looking man who had an overinflated opinion of his own abilities and charged overinflated fees as a direct result. He had not really been interested in treating a young man from one of the poorer quarters of the city and had insisted on receiving his consultation fee in advance. The only useful contribution he had really made had been to suggest which tonics they should purchase to treat the young mathematician and had then left, never to return. Hercules did have to admit that his advice over medicines had been unerringly accurate though and for that the big man was grateful.

This doctor, however, appeared to be very different. For a start he swayed on his feet, perhaps still a little drunk from the previous night, and smelled none too clean. He peered up from heavy lidded eyes and his skin had a distinctly unhealthy yellowish tinge to it, as did the whites of his eyes. Gelo had assured Hercules that this man was a brilliant doctor, even if he was a drunk, but the bulky wrestler definitely had his doubts. Still if the man did right by Jason then he would be happy.

"Do you by any chance have any water?" he said in a voice made rusty by years of hard drinking. "My mouth feels as dry as the desert between here and Helios."

Hercules growled slightly and directed the man to a pitcher of water standing on the side. The doctor drank deeply for a few minutes then turned and smiled as reassuringly as he could manage, the worst of his indisposition seemingly gone.

"Right then," he said briskly, "I have been told that a young man of this household suffered a fall earlier and requires my attention. That would be you I suppose," he finished turning towards Jason.

"Yes," Jason answered, "but listen I'm sure I'm alright. I don't really need a doctor or anything."

If anything the seedy looking man seemed amused by his statement.

"Of course not," he murmured. "Since I am already here, however, why don't you let me look you over? Just to ease everyone's minds."

Without waiting for a response he came forwards and placed his fingers under Jason's chin, gently tilting the young man's head this way and that with his other hand on the back of the his neck, and then started to carefully feel up and down the lad's spine. Then he paused.

"I am sorry," he apologised. "I have forgotten my manners. My name is Cinyras and I am a doctor… although I would hope that you already know that otherwise what I am doing is very strange. Forgive my rudeness in not introducing myself properly. My only excuse is that I am very tired. Since the plague which has attacked the city began I have had little sleep – I have not even managed to have a drink in several days."

"You've been treating the victims then?" Hercules rumbled.

"Yes," Cinyras said, continuing his examination. "Many of my patients are very poor and have no other access to medical treatment. I am not a wealthy man and I have a small problem with gambling but it is my duty to help those in need." He sighed. "I am aware, of course, that many of my colleagues in the medical profession do not agree with that sentiment. Perhaps that is why they are rich and I am not." He turned back to Jason once again. "Where did you fall?" he asked.

"What difference does that make?" Hercules groused.

"I need to know if it was a fall from height," the doctor retorted. "Although from the amount of bruising to your upper body I am guessing that it was."

"Yeah," Gelo answered. "He fell down the steps that lead from the top of the city wall."

Cinyras raised an eyebrow in surprise and gently began to palpate Jason's ribcage.

"Sorry," he said, feeling the young man flinch beneath his hand. "This may be moderately unpleasant for you but I need to ascertain what damage you have done."

Jason bit down hard on his lip and tried to keep from crying out, although he was unable to prevent the odd small whimper escaping.

"So how did you come to fall?"

Jason grimaced.

"I don't really remember," he confessed. "I vaguely remember hearing Gelo calling to me and I turned around to speak to him but after that I don't remember anything."

"He fainted," Gelo supplied helpfully. "He was at the top of the steps at the time."

"Fainted?" the doctor murmured. He turned back to Jason. "Follow," he instructed moving one finger from side to side in front of the young man's eyes. "Good. There does not appear to be a head injury." His eyes narrowed and he placed one appraising hand on Jason's forehead while the other felt for a pulse at the wrist, checking the speed and strength of the beat he felt there. "Open your mouth for me."

"Why?" Jason asked.

"Because I need to make sure that you do not have the contagion that has been spreading throughout the city," the doctor explained. "Although you do not have a fever and your heartbeat is normal I wish to be sure."

Jason sighed and rolled his eyes but for once in his life did as he was told. Cinyras smiled. From what little he had seen so far he had no doubt whatsoever that this young man could be extremely wilful when he wanted to be.

"Good," he murmured. "There is no sign of the sickness. Your tongue is uncoated and your throat clear. Aside from the injuries sustained in the fall you would appear to be in remarkably good health. Which leads me to wonder why you would faint," he finished with a frown. "You have not experienced any episodes like this before?"

"No," Jason muttered. "I mean I passed out once from fever when I was ill but that was months ago."

Cinyras nodded thoughtfully.

"When was the last time you ate?" he asked.

Jason cast a guilty look at Hercules.

"It's been a while," he admitted.

Immediately the burly wrestler was on high alert.

"How long a while?" he demanded.

Jason shrugged.

"Jason," Hercules growled dangerously.

"How long has it been?" Cinyras pressed gently, knowing from the young man's reaction that the answer was not likely to be good.

"I haven't eaten in nearly four days," Jason admitted quietly, not raising his eyes from the spot on the floor that suddenly seemed to have become absolutely fascinating.

Hercules cursed loudly. He stomped off across the room too angry for words and knowing that he needed time to calm down. Jason bit his lip as his older friend stormed away, knowing that this was unlikely to be the end of the matter and that he was at some point likely to be on the receiving end of one of Hercules' well-meaning but always embarrassing lectures.

Cinyras sighed.

"I think we might all know why you fainted then," he said dryly. "You are lucky that it happened though."

"Why?" Jason couldn't help asking. He ached all over and certainly wasn't feeling very lucky at this precise moment in time.

"Because the mind will always act to try to stop the body from falling," the physician replied. "Without you even realising it your body tenses. If that had happened you could have been much more seriously injured. As it was the fact that you were unconscious and therefore completely floppy worked in your favour." He paused. "I still would not recommend starving yourself to the point of collapse though," he added sternly with one raised eyebrow.

"I didn't exactly intend for it to happen this time," Jason retorted with a wry smile.

"That's good to know," Cinyras said.

"You're not like the other doctor that came here," the young brunette observed.

"Other doctor?"

Jason sighed.

"My friend Pythagoras… he's not actually a doctor but he's a pretty good healer anyway. When the plague started people kept coming to him for help. He tried to help as many of them as he could… stayed up all hours looking after the sick… but in the end…"

"He became ill with the disease himself?" Cinyras guessed.

"Yeah," Jason answered. "Hercules called a doctor in but he only seemed interested in getting paid. About the only thing he did was to tell us that Pythagoras would probably die but that if we wanted to try to cure him we should get this tonic from the apothecary."

Cinyras winced. Too many of his colleagues were like that. He picked up the bottle of medicine from the table, unstoppered it and delicately sniffed, grimacing at the smell.

"Well that would certainly help your friend," he murmured, "but I doubt he finds the taste particularly palatable."

Jason grinned.

"Nah," he admitted. "Apparently it's disgusting… it does seem to be working though… he _is_ getting better."

"No doubt," the doctor said. "I think, however, that I might have something that will make it a little more pleasant." He reached into the leather satchel he had placed upon the table when he had first arrived and withdrew a small bottle. "Mix this in with the tonic in even amounts," he said. "It will make the tonic much more drinkable and the herbs it contains should help your friend's lungs to recover a lot more quickly." He paused. "But now we must see to you."

Reaching into the satchel again he produced several rolls of bandaging. As Hercules re-entered the room, somewhat calmer now, the doctor began to carefully bandage Jason's ribs and to wrap his knee properly.

"You have three cracked ribs and a severely twisted knee," he told Jason, "and by morning you are going to be black and blue from shoulder to ankle. It's nothing that a few day's rest won't fix but you _are_ likely to be _extremely_ _sore_. Now I want you to keep your weight off that knee at least until I have seen you again. Then I may judge how long you will need to keep off it for. Keep it elevated if you can – it should help the swelling to go down – and you must rest those ribs to make sure that you do no more damage to them. Keeping still will help you to heal. Take deep breaths every hour or so. It _will_ _hurt_ but you will be doing your lungs a big favour if you can do it. I'm going to leave some painkilling powders for you to drink dissolved in water now. They _are_ likely to make you sleepy but they will help to relieve the worst of the pain… and please don't _try_ to tell me that you're not in pain when any fool could see that you are. I'm also going to leave some painkilling tonics behind. Take a dose whenever you start to feel discomfort. Do _not_ wait until it is unbearable. It is far easier to nip these things in the bud early than to try to control them once they are fully present. I will also leave a salve of hyssop and arnica for the worst of the bruising. It will help. The thing that will help you most though is rest… I cannot stress it enough. I would encourage bed rest for at least the rest of today until you have recovered from the shock somewhat. Look after yourself," he said earnestly, "and I will be back to see you soon."

He stood and patted the young man on the shoulder. Then he gestured for Hercules to follow him as Gelo moved forward smoothly to distract Jason, realising that the doctor wanted to have a quiet word with the burly wrestler.

"You need to make sure that he rests," Cinyras wasted no time in getting to the point. "And you will need to keep an eye on him for a few days. He has been very lucky but a fall of this nature can have serious consequences. I am as sure as I can be that he has no further injuries but if he should appear to be in excessive pain or should develop a fever you must send for me at once. As it is I will return in the morning to check on the boy. I understand that you have another friend in the house who has been ill with the contagion."

"I have," Hercules confirmed.

"Then I will check on him also," Cinyras stated firmly. "I have no doubt that the tonic my esteemed colleague suggested is doing its job but it would be remiss of me not to make sure. As for this young man, you need to make sure that he eats… and soon. Keep it plain and simple though… nothing too rich. After several days without food he will need to line his stomach again and he would be likely to react badly to anything too rich. Keep it light for the first meal and don't try to force him to eat too much in one go… little and often will be the key for the first day or two… just until his stomach is used to containing food again."

Hercules nodded and sighed. These two boys were going to be the death of him he just knew it.

"Thank you," he rumbled genuinely.

The doctor smiled.

"Do not worry," he said comfortingly. "Your young friend is fit, strong and healthy. He will be fine with a few days' rest."

With that he gathered up his bag and left with Gelo and Kerkyon keeping him company. Hercules turned back to Jason with a frown. He was still extremely angry but now was not the time for a lecture. Now he needed to make sure that the young man was made comfortable. With a sigh he walked back over to the table.

Jason looked up at him a little nervously. Hercules' heart clenched slightly. Much as he wanted to scold; to know just _why_ Jason had suddenly decided that starvation was a reasonable option; to make his friend see just how worried and how damned annoyed he was right now; the boy was far too beaten up to withstand even a mildly robust discussion at the moment. Those things could wait.

"Come on Jason," he rumbled. "You heard what the doctor said. Let's get you settled into bed and some of that painkilling stuff down you. No don't try to move on your own. You heard what he said – you need to keep off that knee." With that he slipped in under Jason's shoulder and, placing the lad's arm around his own shoulders, gently hoisted him to his feet.

Hercules didn't fail to notice Jason's sigh of relief as he finally lowered himself onto the bed. The lad was clearly hurting even if he didn't want to admit to it, the big man thought grimly as he moved back across the room to dissolve the powders the doctor had left into water. Job done he collected all the spare blankets that they had and moved back into the alcove that had become Jason's bedroom. Pausing by the pillar near the end of the young man's bed he looked at his friend seriously. Jason was still shirtless and had stretched out as best he could on top of the covers, shifting painfully as he searched for a more comfortable position. A task that Hercules surmised was not all that easy. He cleared his throat meaningfully.

Jason looked up. He hated to be a burden on his friends and the thought that Hercules might have to look after him as well as Pythagoras now almost made him burn with shame. Now that he was lying down his ribs ached and his knee throbbed abominably and every way he moved he seemed to find another bruise or scrape that made it nigh on impossible to find a way of resting comfortably. Somehow, no matter what the doctor had said, he couldn't see himself getting much sleep or any meaningful rest any time soon – everything was just far too painful.

Hercules felt his heart clench again at just how downright miserable his friend looked. It was never easy seeing someone he cared about ill or hurt. It didn't really help matters that Jason somehow managed to look younger than ever like this – less like the young hero he was rapidly turning into and more like the lonely boy he must once have been. The burly wrestler attempted a bright and reassuring smile. How _did_ Pythagoras manage to do this so well? Of course the lad was a born healer whereas Hercules most definitely was not.

"Right," he said cheerfully, "get this down you." He handed Jason the cup he had mixed, helping the young man to sit up without even thinking about it.

"Thanks," Jason muttered, clearly abashed at once again needing help for simple everyday tasks.

"None of that," Hercules admonished. "You'd do the same for me given half a chance. Now lay back down and let me get some of this salve on the bits you can't reach."

Jason rolled onto his front without a murmur, knowing that there was absolutely no point in arguing with Hercules. Besides which he was beginning to stiffen up to the point where even thinking about stretching to reach some of the more painful spots on his back and sides made him shudder. As it was Hercules' calloused hands rubbing the salve oh so gently into his sore skin felt almost good and he began to relax as the painkiller did its job, leaving him more than a little drowsy. Every so often, though, the big man would inevitably press on a place that was more tender and Jason was unable to stop himself from wincing or letting out little whimpers now and then.

"Sorry," Hercules murmured, not for the first time.

"Are you angry at me?" Jason asked sleepily.

"Yes," Hercules answered truthfully, "but now is not the time to talk about it. You need to rest."

"Mmm," Jason responded and rolled back onto his back. He bit his lip in embarrassment. "I might need your help to do the front too," he admitted quietly. "I'm already a bit stiff."

Hercules nodded with a soft smile. It was still a relatively rare thing for Jason to actually ask anyone for help and neither one of his friends ever denied him when he did – knowing just how hard it had been for Jason to accept kindness and caring in the first place. It was a sign of just how much the young man had come to trust them and neither one of them wanted to risk that fragile trust.

Without comment the big man once again set about gently rubbing the salve into his friend's bruises – tending to Jason's hurts as carefully as he could. Once he had finished he sat back and looked at the lad seriously. He would stiffen up even more if he were allowed to get cold, the big man decided, and he was not about to allow anything to increase the boy's pain if he could help it. Looking around he picked up the soft sleeping tunic that hung from the end of the bed. It had been another present from Meriones. Really, Hercules thought, he ought to try to stop the giant from spoiling the boys this much. Apparently his old friend had been dissatisfied by the fact that when Jason had been staying with Meriones he had slept either in the tunic that he wore every day or shirtless. The giant had reasoned that the one was unhygienic and the other might lead to his young friend picking up a chill as the winter progressed so he had simply included sleep shirts for both Jason and Pythagoras in the package that had contained winter tunics for them both. Hercules sighed. He hadn't for a moment accepted Meriones' excuse that these were samples of Talos' wares that he could not send back and could not sell but could not think of a single reason not to accept the giant's kindness – especially as both his boys had seemed so pleased.

He turned back to Jason with the tunic in his hands.

"Come on," he said softly. "You'll get cold lying on top of the bed like that. Get this top on and get under the covers. You'll be a lot more comfortable if you do."

He almost laughed at Jason's sceptical look. It appeared that as the initial shock was beginning to wear off Jason's usual spark was beginning to come back. Still the lad did as he was told. He slowly and carefully pulled the tunic on and painfully wriggled until Hercules could pull the bedclothes out from under his legs. He was breathing as heavily as his cracked ribs would allow and sweat dotted his forehead, the burly wrestler noted. Yes, the sooner he could get Jason settled and comfortable the better.

"Lift your knee for me," he instructed.

Jason looked momentarily confused but still complied without a murmur. Hercules smiled softly and gently slipped the spare folded blankets he had brought under the injured limb, elevating it gently. He was rewarded by a soft sigh from his friend indicating that Jason was for the moment as comfortable as he could be. With a gentleness that few outside the household had ever seen he pulled the covers up over the young man and smoothed them out.

Despite Jason's earlier mental predictions that he would not be able to rest properly and certainly would not sleep, a lassitude crept rapidly over him, encouraged by the painkiller he had taken and by the warmth and comfort of his own bed, and his hazel eyes began to drift closed. Watched by his older friend his breathing evened out into the soft rhythms of sleep and the lines of pain etched onto his face smoothed themselves away.

Hercules smiled and slipped out. Now he could check on his other young friend – could make sure that the commotion had not disturbed the young mathematician – and could use the money that Jason had earned and abandoned on the kitchen table to purchase some food from the agora. The smile dropped from his face and he frowned. As soon as Jason was awake and had some proper food inside him they would be having a very long and probably stern chat about lying to his friends and looking after himself. Already planning the points that he wanted to make, Hercules set about the tasks he had imposed upon himself.

* * *

By the time Jason woke up properly the morning sun was riding high in the sky. He couldn't believe that he had actually managed to sleep for the best part of the afternoon, evening and night the day before – all barring one brief period when he had woken for long enough to sleepily consume the small bowl of bread and milk that Hercules had thrust at him and to take a dose of the painkilling tonic that the big man had insisted upon. Then he had been out like a light again.

Now for a few moments after waking he lay looking at the ceiling in some confusion trying to work out why he was still in bed so long after sunrise. Then the events of the previous day returned in full force along with all the aches and pains as his battered body protested its recent treatment. Oh Lord he was so stiff and so sore that even _thinking_ about moving was painful. For a brief moment he actually considered calling out to Hercules to ask his large friend to bring him some more of that tonic. He was certain that Hercules would. Then he noticed how suspiciously quiet the house was. Hercules must be out then – the burly wrestler was not known for his ability to move quietly and always made some sort of noise when he was at home. Jason sighed. Right then, he would have to get up and get his own painkillers – no matter how unpleasant that might be.

Easing himself as carefully as he could to the edge of the bed he paused for a few minutes, gasping as his damaged ribs grated painfully. Once the stars that briefly danced across his eyes faded and the pain receded to an almost bearable level he gingerly swung his legs over the side. The knee was going to be a problem, he almost immediately decided. It was too swollen and sore to bend and he wasn't all that sure that it would actually take his weight. Still he had to try. It quickly became apparent that knowing that something was likely to be painful and actually experiencing it were two different things – as he discovered when he stood up. The startled yelp that he couldn't help but give was much louder than he had intended it to be as a sharp stabbing feeling came up through his leg. You've had worse, he told himself sternly, you've definitely been in a worse state than this, so stop complaining and get on with it.

"Is everything alright?" a weak voice came from Pythagoras' room. Clearly the yelp that Jason had given had been even louder than he had thought and had disturbed the mathematician's rest.

Jason swore quietly to himself. The last thing Pythagoras needed right now was to be worrying about _him_.

"Everything's fine," he answered, aware of how strained his voice sounded.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," Jason answered. "I just banged my knee." It was not _precisely_ a lie, he told himself. After all he really had hurt his knee – he was just avoiding worrying Pythagoras by saying how at the moment.

Once he realised that yes his leg was horribly painful, the knee itself throbbing constantly, but would hold his weight if he were careful, he started to cross the room over towards the kitchen table. He knew of course that what he was doing was in direct contravention of the doctor's orders and was probably not a particularly good idea but the need for something to take the edge off the pain was overriding all other thought.

Sitting down to take the tonic and to gulp down a large cup of water afterwards was a distinct relief. Then Jason noticed the bottle of medicine on the table that Pythagoras had been taking. The bottle was still full. Pythagoras should have had a dose this morning but clearly Hercules had gone out and had forgotten it. Jason sighed softly. Much as he would like to be getting back to bed (and he really _would_ like to be following doctor's orders and resting his aching body as much as he could) he could not in good conscience let Pythagoras go without his own tonic. The young genius was so much better than he had been but was still unwell enough that both his friends feared a relapse.

Carefully measuring out a dose, Jason mixed the tonic with the one that Cinyras had left yesterday in a cup and then levered himself up from the table. Just a little longer and then he could rest again, he promised himself. Moving slowly and limping heavily he made his way to Pythagoras' room, drawing back the curtain and making his way over to the bed with his smile plastered in place.

Apparently Pythagoras was not fooled. He took one look at Jason and pushed himself upright, his blue eyes wide and concerned.

"What happened?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" Jason responded as innocently as he could manage.

Pythagoras favoured him with an incredulous look.

"You are hurt," he stated flatly.

Jason sighed.

"I fell," he answered shortly. "It's really not that bad."

Pythagoras glared.

"Come here and let me see," he all but demanded.

"I'm fine," Jason protested, "and you need to take your medicine." He sat down on the edge of the bed just beyond Pythagoras' reach and leant forwards to put the cup down on the small stool that they had set up as a bedside table, willing his face not to register the pain that stretching caused as his ribs grated again.

Pythagoras raised an eyebrow.

"I'll drink that if you let me take a look at you," he countered.

Jason stared. It was not like Pythagoras to try to be so devious although he supposed he should have known that the young genius would always be stubborn where the health and welfare of his friends was concerned.

"I saw a doctor yesterday," he admitted quietly. "Hercules insisted."

"And what did he say?" Pythagoras asked, still sounding worried.

"He said that I'd be fine in a few days," Jason answered. He looked earnestly at the mathematician. "I really will be alright."

Pythagoras looked long and hard at him. He really would prefer to examine Jason himself, knowing that in all likelihood his friend was being somewhat economical with the truth. Until he was strong enough to insist, however, the most he could do was try to wear Jason down until he acquiesced to the mathematician's requests – which undoubtedly he _would_ do sooner or later. Perhaps for now though a tactical withdrawal would be for the best. Far better to quietly badger Jason throughout the day until he gave in, than to push too hard now and lose the opportunity to check that his friend was not seriously harmed altogether. He laid back against the pillows and forced a smile.

"Perhaps we could talk for a while," he suggested, "or play a game of Tilia or Knucklebones. I find that I am growing tired of lying here looking at the ceiling all the time and I cannot yet seem to focus upon my work."

Jason tried not to wince. He had been hoping to get back to bed as soon as Pythagoras' medicine was delivered but it seemed that his friend had other ideas. Given how ill the young genius had been Jason didn't have the heart to turn him down. He tried to settle himself a little more comfortably on the edge of the bed, painfully aware of how much he was hurting right now.

"Of course," he said. "What would you like to talk about?"

Pythagoras smiled shyly.

"I thought perhaps we could pass the time by telling stories," he murmured.

Jason smiled lightly.

"Sounds good to me," he said.

The young mathematician was deep into the tale of the origins of the gods when a loud voice growled from the doorway.

"What in the name of the gods do you think you're doing?"

Jason inwardly cringed. He had hoped to be able to get back to bed before his other friend came home. It appeared that he had not been so lucky. If he could have he would have put off the conversation that was inevitably going to happen right now indefinitely and certainly would have avoided having it in front of his still unwell younger friend.

"Hello Hercules," he said as inoffensively as possible.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Ok I feel the need to put in a little bit of medical history here. The ancient Greeks do appear to have known about tendons and ligaments and their purpose (although it remains unlikely that they knew how to fix them if they were torn as they do not appear to have practised that type of surgery) but they lumped everything under the heading of "nerves" - so that's what I've done too.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy the chapter. Please let me know if you do!

"Hello Hercules?" The burly wrestler spluttered incredulously. " _Hello Hercules_?"

He began to pace about the room muttering curse words.

"I asked you a question," he said rounding on the bed. "What in the name of the gods do you think you're doing?"

Pythagoras stared at his clearly enraged friend in some confusion.

"I am resting as I was told. As much as I would like to I simply do not have the energy to get out of bed yet," he said softly. "I was not sleepy, however, and was becoming bored so I am afraid that I asked Jason to keep me company for a while."

"Not you!" Hercules exclaimed. " _Him_!" He turned the full force of his glare on Jason.

"I do not understand," Pythagoras confessed.

"No but _he_ does, don't you?" Hercules growled.

Jason shifted uncomfortably. He ached miserably and his knee was a throbbing ball of fire. Being truthful he was aware that he probably deserved the scolding that he was likely to get but couldn't Hercules at least wait until he was lying down and vaguely comfortable again? Then at least he might be able to pay attention to the inevitable lecture – although perhaps that was not such a good thing.

"What are you talking about?" Pythagoras asked, his tone becoming sharper.

Jason grimaced. The small bowl of bread and milk he had consumed the night before had not really been enough to make up for several days without food and he was beginning to feel decidedly shaky and light headed again. His head had started to pound somewhere in the last few minutes and he raised his hand to his temple and rubbed without really being aware of what he was doing.

Hercules looked at his young friend crossly. Any fool could see that Jason was in pain and needed to be resting. Angry as he was (and he fully intended to make the young man aware of just how angry he was _very_ soon) he had no wish to increase the lad's discomfort.

"Wait there," he instructed, not quite liking how pale Jason had suddenly become.

As Hercules hurried off Pythagoras looked long and hard at Jason. It was clear that something was wrong and the young mathematician intended to find out just what that something was. He sat up cautiously, frowning at the weakness he felt in his own body, and carefully scooted down the bed until he was sitting alongside Jason, his legs dangling over the side.

"What is wrong my friend?" he asked gently, slipping one thin arm around Jason's waist, worried by how pale his friend was becoming as his face slowly drained of colour.

"I'm just a bit dizzy," Jason admitted. "I'll be alright in a minute."

Pythagoras frowned. He had known Jason for long enough to know that his friend was most definitely not prone to dizzy spells. Something more was going on here that he didn't know about. He opened his mouth to speak again but was interrupted by Hercules returning with the chair from the corner of his own bedroom (the only one that they possessed that actually had a back and arms and was usually hidden under a pile of Hercules' things), several blankets and the pillow from the burly wrestler's bed. He glowered at his two younger companions and dumped the chair down at the foot of the bed with an audible bang.

"You," he said pointing at Pythagoras, "get back into bed… and you," he added with a glare at Jason, "sit yourself down in this chair."

Jason looked up at him wide eyed as Pythagoras hurried to comply with his clearly irate old friend.

"And you can stop doing that thing with your eyes too," Hercules growled.

"What thing with my eyes?" Jason looked confused.

"That thing that you do where you make your eyes go all wide and innocent looking and end up looking like a puppy that's just been kicked."

Jason looked even more confused than ever.

"I don't do that," he protested.

"Yes you do," murmured Pythagoras, "although I suspect that you are largely unaware of it most of the time."

Jason bit his lip and looked awkward.

"Do I really do that?" he asked. "Sorry."

At another pointed look from Hercules he shuffled down to the end of the bed and pushed himself upright, keeping as much weight off his knee as possible and pivoting on his good leg until he was in a position to lower himself into the chair. He had to admit that he was a lot more comfortable with the back of the chair supporting him than he had been sitting on the side of the bed. He looked up to see Hercules staring at him with a mixture of rage and an odd satisfaction and inwardly winced, suddenly sure that this lecture was going to be particularly memorable.

Hercules waited for a moment to ensure that Jason had managed to get himself into the chair without too much trouble and then swooped in on his younger friend. Before the young man knew what was going on – and certainly before he could even think of protesting – Hercules had the pillow behind his back and had lifted his injured leg to rest full length on the end of the bed, blankets supporting his knee. Jason sighed, still aching a bit too much to be truly comfortable but resting much more easily than he had been. Hercules nodded.

Jason opened his mouth to say something. Before he could speak Hercules levelled a trembling finger at him.

"Not a word," the big man admonished. "Whatever it is you were about to say just don't. _We_ are going to have a very serious chat but _you_ are going to get some food inside you first." He turned to Pythagoras. "And that means you too," he said.

"Me?" Pythagoras said incredulously. "What have I done?"

"You need to eat too," Hercules stated. "If you want to regain your strength you need to build yourself up."

With one final stern look at the boys he bustled out of the room. For a while the two friends sat in awkward silence listening to the clatters and bangs from the kitchen which indicated that Hercules was somewhat aggressively preparing lunch.

"Was there something you wanted to tell me?" Pythagoras asked almost neutrally.

Jason looked down at the ground.

"Not really," he admitted, "but I don't think I've got all that much choice in the matter."

"How did you get hurt?" the young genius queried.

Jason sighed.

"I really did fall," he said.

Pythagoras looked at him sceptically.

"I hardly think you would be in this much pain from a simple fall," he said crisply.

"Actually he did fall," Hercules growled coming back into the room with two bowls in his hands. "What he hasn't told you though is that it was from the top of the steps that lead down from the city wall."

Pythagoras' eyes grew wide and he gasped slightly, sitting up suddenly as though he was going to come to the end of the bed to check on Jason immediately.

"Lie back down and eat this," Hercules admonished, handing one of the bowls to the young genius. He turned back to Jason with an eyebrow raised. "You. Eat," he instructed firmly, thrusting the second bowl at the young man before returning to the kitchen to fetch his own portion.

Jason had to admit that the broth that the bowl contained was surprisingly good. Every spoonful seemed to put a little more strength into him as the lingering weakness and dizziness faded. Although the bowl was only half full to begin with he soon found himself satisfied and relaxing back in the chair, more comfortable than he had felt at any time since waking this morning, with the now empty dish discarded at his side.

"Good?" Hercules asked, still slurping noisily. He was pleased to see the colour rapidly returning to his young friend's face – a pale Jason was never a good sign.

"Yeah," Jason answered.

"It was from your friend the milk seller," Hercules explained. "Apparently she heard what happened and felt a little guilty. I was passing her stall earlier and she all but leapt out at me with a pot in her hands. Said that she thought you needed feeding," he finished with an eyebrow raised.

Jason frowned slightly and blushed. Why did everyone around him seem to think he needed feeding up? It wasn't as if he was that thin – certainly nowhere near as skinny as Pythagoras.

"She didn't need to do that," he muttered.

"She wanted to," Hercules answered simply. He looked pointedly at Jason's empty bowl. "Did you want some more?"

"No thanks," Jason responded. "I'm pretty full."

Hercules frowned darkly. It always astonished him how little food filled Jason up, and given that the lad had gone for days without eating the big man certainly felt that he could have eaten a bit more. He took the doctor's advice though and decided not to nag, reasoning that it would be far easier to persuade Jason to eat another small amount in a little while rather than trying to force him to eat a lot now and encountering the lad's stubbornness.

"Right then," he said deceptively calmly, his anger still bubbling below the surface, "we need to talk."

Jason gulped. This was one conversation he was not looking forward to.

"Let's start with your most recent piece of foolishness," Hercules continued, his voice becoming testier with every word. "What in the name of the gods are you doing out of bed when it's clear to everyone with eyes that you're in pain and ought to be resting?"

Jason took as deep a breath as his cracked ribs would allow, wincing noticeably at the resultant stab of pain. That wince was not lost on either one of his friends; one of whom was regarding him with increasingly worried blue eyes and the other one with a distinct look of irritation mixed in with the concern.

"I didn't really mean to be out of bed," Jason admitted.

"Oh so you _accidentally_ go up, walked all the way across the kitchen and came in here," Hercules grumbled sarcastically.

"Yes. No," Jason said. "Not exactly." He sighed. "I woke up this morning and everything was aching so much and I thought I probably needed to take another dose of that tonic. You know… just to take the edge off. Only it was in the kitchen. I was going to call out and ask you to get me some… I thought you wouldn't mind too much… but then I noticed how quiet the house was and figured that you were out. I know I should have waited until you got back but I didn't know how long that would be and all I could think about was how much I was hurting and I _really_ needed to take that painkiller… so I thought I could just about make it to the table and then get straight back to bed."

"Never mind the fact that you weren't supposed to be putting any weight at all on that knee," Hercules muttered, "or that you were told to rest those ribs. You knew that you ought to be keeping still… the doctor may not have actually said that you needed bed rest beyond yesterday but he _did_ tell you that you shouldn't be moving around."

In actual fact the burly wrestler was kicking himself. He had meant to leave that bottle of medicine on a stool next to Jason when he left the house so that the young man could help himself if he woke up while Hercules was out, but in his hurry this morning he had forgotten. He shuddered at the thought of his friend waking up in pain and not being able to get to the tonic that he needed to provide relief quickly. Of course that didn't explain why the lad was in Pythagoras' room now instead of being safely tucked up in bed where he belonged.

"I know," Jason admitted. "But I wasn't really thinking all that clearly. All I could focus on was getting something to stop me aching so much. I might have yelped a bit louder than I intended to when I got up though… I wasn't really expecting to feel like someone was stabbing my leg when I stood up."

"Yes you did," Pythagoras answered softly. "You told me you had banged your knee." The accusation that Jason had lied to him hung unspoken in the air.

"I know," Jason answered a little guiltily, "but I didn't want you to worry. Besides, I _had_ banged my knee – sort of – I just didn't say how or when," he added defensively.

Hercules motioned for him to continue with a curt wave of his hand.

Jason took another semi-deep breath.

"Anyway I managed to make it to the table and took the tonic and I was about to go back to bed… I promise I was… when I saw that Pythagoras hadn't had his medicine this morning and I didn't want him to go without… I didn't want him to get sick again… so I thought I could bring it in here and then get back to rest. Only he realised I was hurt and wanted to know what had happened. So I told him I'd fallen and that you'd made me see a doctor and that I'd be fine in a few days. All of which are true!"

"Yes they are," Hercules rumbled, "although it seems to me that you left out some fairly important things when you were telling him – just like you are now." He gave Jason an extremely hard look. "And it still doesn't explain why you're not back in bed where you belong now."

"That might be my fault," Pythagoras admitted quietly. "I was so bored and lonely that I asked Jason to stay and keep me company. I don't think he liked to say no."

"Couldn't say no without explaining why, you mean," Hercules groused.

"No," Jason objected hotly. "It wasn't like that. I really did want to be lying down but Pythagoras asks for so little and he's been so ill…" he trailed off.

Hercules sighed. He did not doubt Jason's good intentions – the lad had a big heart – and he hadn't intended to imply that his reasons for staying with his friend had been any less than honourable. The events of the last two days were catching up with him, however, and making him sharper than he intended to be.

"How badly are you injured?" Pythagoras' softly spoken words – his tone filled with worry – brought the big man back to the present.

Jason, true to form, tried to make light of things – much to Hercules' annoyance.

"I'm fine," he muttered, despite all evidence to the contrary.

Both his friends looked at him incredulously: Pythagoras because he could clearly see that Jason was _not_ fine and Hercules because he knew exactly how much Jason was hurt and hurting and couldn't quite believe that the lad would try to hide it. His annoyance built again.

"I'm a little banged up is all," Jason tried, having seen their looks.

Hercules snorted loudly.

"I'm a bit stiff and sore," Jason ventured. "It's mainly just bruising."

"Jason you have clearly injured your leg," Pythagoras pointed out firmly. "You cannot walk properly on it and from the way Hercules has propped it up I would say that it is most definitely more than "just bruising", and the way you are wincing whenever you breathe deeply indicates that there is damage to your ribs."

"It really is nothing that a few days rest won't fix," Jason muttered, even now trying to avoid worrying his still unwell friend.

Pythagoras looked at Hercules in exasperation, fed up of Jason's evasions. He was the healer of the family for goodness sake. He needed to know the truth.

"Three cracked ribs, a severely twisted knee and more scrapes and bruises than I would like to count," Hercules said promptly, having no qualms at all about dropping his dark haired friend in it. "The doctor said that by this morning he would be black and blue from shoulder to ankle and extremely sore. I'm actually surprised he can move at all."

He returned Jason's glare with a level look. While he might have originally intended to keep the ailing Pythagoras out of his discussion with Jason – reasoning that the mathematician did not need the stress – it was Jason that had brought him into it by coming in here rather than doing as he was told, and Hercules had no intention of lying to the young blonde.

Jason winced slightly, seeing Pythagoras' eyes take fire. He viewed both his friends' health and well-being as his domain and would not take well to being kept in the dark.

"If your knee is as bad as I suspect then you should not even have attempted to stand on it," Pythagoras said coldly.

"Sorry," Jason said, "but it really isn't all that bad… just a bit sore."

Pythagoras' expression did not change.

"Let me see then," he demanded. "You would not before but I must insist now."

Hercules frowned.

"I don't think that would be a good idea," he began.

"For goodness sake Hercules," Pythagoras snapped crossly. "I will not get out of bed. I am merely going to sit at the bottom of the bed rather than the top. It will do me no harm. Besides," he added more softly, "I will only worry if I do not do this."

Hercules held his hands up defensively. Pythagoras immediately felt guilty. He was not really angry with his large friend. Jason on the other hand was definitely another story. He was cross at his younger friend for not taking better care of himself and not following doctor's orders by resting when he was told, and cross at himself for being in a position where Jason had felt that he had to put himself through pain to make sure that Pythagoras was alright. While he logically knew that he couldn't help being ill he still felt guilty for the trouble he believed he was putting his friends to.

"Look," Jason started, "if I promise to go back to bed and not move until I'm told I can do you think we could forgo the lecture and the examination right now?"

Hercules glared.

"Oh I'm just getting started," he rumbled dangerously.

"That's what I was afraid of," Jason muttered, almost inaudibly.

"What did you say?" Hercules hissed icily.

Jason's eyes went wider than either of his friends had ever seen. He gulped.

"Erm… I said that's good," he tried, unconvincingly.

Pythagoras very nearly face-palmed. Someone really ought to tell Jason, he thought, that when you have dug yourself into a hole the best thing to do is stop digging and try to find your way out. He _almost_ felt sorry for his friend.

Hercules turned so red that he was almost purple. What worried Pythagoras more was the prominent vein that seemed to be popping out at his temple, pulsing in time to his heartbeat. Without even thinking about it he reached out and placed a calming hand on his old friend's arm. In spite of his apparent rage Hercules turned and patted Pythagoras' hand reassuringly, letting the mathematician know that he was alright.

"I have one question for you," he growled at Jason. "At what point in time did you think it became alright for you to starve yourself until you passed out?"

"What did you say?" Pythagoras asked, aghast.

"This idiot decided not to eat for nearly four days," Hercules groused, not taking his eyes off Jason. "He passed out at the top of the steps from the city wall and ended up falling down them. It was a miracle he wasn't killed."

Pythagoras stared at Jason, the fire burning even brighter in his eyes.

Jason cringed. It was never a good thing when Pythagoras became angry and was always impressive.

"I didn't actually intend to pass out," he said defensively.

"And that makes it alright does it?" Hercules roared. "The fact that you didn't mean to faint makes starving yourself acceptable!" The volume that he was shouting at could probably have been heard on the other side of the city.

"No," Jason snapped back, "it doesn't make it alright but I had no other choice."

"No other choice?" Hercules spluttered. "Of course you had another choice. You could have chosen to eat."

"And how long do you think our food would have lasted if I had?" Jason spat, suddenly angry. He was hurting and tired and didn't need this damn it.

Pythagoras' eyes narrowed.

"What do you mean?" he asked deceptively calmly.

"I mean that the food would have run out days ago if I hadn't rationed it," Jason answered.

"And your way of rationing it was to go without," Pythagoras replied sharply. "And you didn't think to tell anyone. Why on earth would you think that that was alright? We could all have had a little less with no real harm coming to anyone."

" _Really_ ," Jason responded sarcastically. "You were hardly eating enough to keep a bird alive. You've told me often enough in the past that when you've been ill you need to eat to regain strength. I wasn't about to see you get worse again because we couldn't afford food… And Hercules was going out looking for work all day every day. He was coming home tired and cold and hungry. He needed to eat more than I did." He dropped his head down into his hand, feeling drained.

Pythagoras glared at him; worry warring with anger in his blue eyes. Jason had done some stupid things in the past but this one had to take the prize, he thought. How could he not see he mattered as much as any one of them? It was the lack of self-worth thing once again the mathematician decided. He frowned. He had thought that they had at least begun to vanquish that particular demon yet here it was rearing its ugly little head once again.

"That was something we should have discussed as a family," he pointed out, his tone still a little cold but much more gentle than before. "And you lied to me. You let me believe that everything was fine. When I asked whether you had eaten you implied that you had."

"I didn't actually lie," Jason argued. "I just didn't tell you the whole truth."

"You said that you'd eaten earlier when I asked you," Hercules snapped. "From where I'm standing that pretty much sounds like a lie."

"I _had_ eaten earlier. I just never said _how much_ earlier."

"You knew that I would think you meant earlier in the day." Hercules' voice grew louder again. "You knew that what you were implying wasn't the truth. A lie is a lie Jason. Whether it's directly told or just by choosing which bits of the truth to tell. You still stood there and lied by implication to us both." He huffed crossly. "I never thought you would ever do that. I never thought you would ever lie to us."

Jason cringed. Using that logic almost everything he had told his friends about where he came from was a lie. His guts twisted. If they were this angry now, how would they be when they realised he hadn't been telling them the truth for months?

"After all we have been through I had thought we were close enough to tell each other anything," Pythagoras murmured, making Jason feel even worse. "This was something we should all have known about."

"A bit like the fact that we were running out of money you mean?" Jason answered sharply with a hard look at Hercules.

"That was completely different," the big man argued. "I didn't want you to worry."

Jason barked a short incredulous laugh.

"How is it any different?" he demanded. "You kept the fact that we were running out of money to yourself. I had to find out by accident. If I'd known earlier I could have been looking for work too and then we'd never have ended up in this position."

"So it's my fault then?" Hercules rumbled dangerously.

"That's not what I'm saying," Jason snapped. He ran a weary hand through his dark curls, very much aware of just how much he'd like to be lying down right now. "Why didn't you just tell me?"

"Because I wanted to protect you," Hercules shouted.

"I don't need protecting," Jason said from between clenched teeth. "For two months now you've both been tiptoeing around me like I'm fragile; like I'm made of glass." He huffed out a heavy breath, not missing the guilty look that passed between his two friends. "I'm not going to fall apart at the first sign of trouble. I'm not delicate."

"You weren't yourself for a while," Pythagoras murmured.

"I know," Jason answered. "I had a breakdown… but I am a lot better now… and the only way I'll ever be completely better is if the people around me stop treating me like I'm different; stop trying to "protect" me. I can look after myself and I need you both to know that."

"Well clearly you can't look after yourself properly," Hercules pointed out forcefully. "If you could then you wouldn't have fainted from near starvation."

Jason shook his head.

"It wasn't like that and you know it," he insisted. "Do you really think I like feeling so hungry that it hurts? Do you really think I would _choose_ to starve? We needed to save the little money we had for medicine and you both needed the food more than I did."

Hercules felt his anger growing hotter at every word Jason uttered. The young man's stubborn and headstrong nature was almost legendary amongst the three of them but Hercules wasn't sure it had ever been this bad before. Could Jason really not see that what he had done was wrong?

"You shouldn't have wasted money on medicine," Pythagoras murmured guiltily. "I would have been alright."

Jason winced. The last thing he had wanted to do was upset Pythagoras. He dropped his head to avoid the accusatory glare that Hercules was levelling in his direction. Now look what you've done, the big man's eyes seemed to say.

"It wasn't a waste," Jason insisted. "We need you to get better. Who else would patch me up the next time I go running off into trouble?"

His attempt at humour fell more than a little flat. Pythagoras still looked slightly stricken. Jason frowned and leaned forward, grunting a little at the pull on his chest, to grab the mathematician's hand.

"Listen, it's not your fault. You couldn't help being sick. All either Hercules or I have wanted is for you to be better," he glanced at the burly wrestler in time to see him nod emphatically in agreement. "Maybe Hercules should have told me that the money was running out and maybe I should have told him I was making the food last by skipping the odd meal here and there."

"Try all of them," Hercules interjected crossly.

"Ok," Jason agreed, "all of them. It's not the smartest thing I've ever done and right now I really wish I hadn't… I certainly wouldn't want to do it again… falling down those stairs _hurt_ … But it happened. Right at this moment I'm hurting more than I'd like to admit, you're not well yet and Hercules is so angry I think he might actually burst a blood vessel, but we'll get through it. Whatever happens we're a team."

Pythagoras nodded seriously.

"I know," he admitted. "Will you let me make sure that you are really alright though?"

"Well I think the doctor's supposed to be coming back in a bit," Jason began.

"Yes he is," Hercules said. "He wanted to check you both over."

"It is an unnecessary expense on my part," Pythagoras fretted. "I am feeling much stronger today. I am sure that the doctor need not trouble himself with me."

"Don't worry," Hercules rumbled. "Apparently he owes Meriones some rather large favours so he's doing this for free. Besides," he added, "we have a little money left over from the errands that Jason ran yesterday – before he decided to roll down the stairs – and I found a job this morning. That's why I was gone so long."

"A job?" Jason asked.

"Doing what?" Pythagoras said suspiciously at the same time.

"Just guarding some crates for one of the merchant's in the agora," Hercules said. "It'll only be for a week or so and only at night. Apparently the last guard he had stole from him and he was a little wary of employing anyone else. Fortunately my natural honesty and basic reliability shone through." He placed one hand self-righteously over his chest.

The two boys looked at him open mouthed for a moment and then, catching each other's eyes, burst out laughing. Their laughter trailed off after a few moments as Pythagoras gasped for breath, coughing wetly, and Jason clutched at his ribs. Both of them were still smiling in amusement, however, and under the circumstances Hercules found he had no real objection to being the butt of the joke once more. He looked at the two young men speculatively.

"Shouldn't you have drunk that tonic by now?" He asked Pythagoras.

The blonde genius looked down at the cup still sitting on the stool alongside his bed and blushed.

"I forgot," he admitted reaching out to take it. The taste was much more pleasant than it had been every other time he had drunk it and he stared into space, mind busily identifying the extra herbs that had been used to change the flavour so radically.

"And you look like you could do with some more of that salve and a dose of that painkilling tonic," Hercules added looking at Jason.

"It's not that long since I had some," Jason answered. "Although it really doesn't seem to have helped all that much."

"Probably because you went too long between doses," Pythagoras stated, returning to the present. "Perhaps if I could look at the bottle I could work out if it would be safe for you to take some extra."

Hercules nodded before Jason could respond and marched purposefully into the kitchen to fetch both the tonic and the salve. Returning in short order, he deposited the bottle with Pythagoras and turned with the jar in his hands towards Jason.

"Tunic off," he instructed.

Jason pulled a face.

"I'm not sure I can without help," he admitted.

Hercules nodded again. He had expected as much. Given how stiff and sore he rather suspected Jason was, he was actually amazed that the lad could move at all. Putting the salve down on the end of the bed the burly wrestler moved towards his young friend and gently started to help Jason pull his tunic off over his head. Behind him he heard Pythagoras give a horrified gasp as their other friend's torso was revealed and, though he knew what to expect, found that he could not help giving a hiss of sympathy himself.

There didn't seem to be a single inch of Jason's upper body that wasn't scraped or bruised. In some places the bruising was so dark that it looked black. The worst, Hercules knew, was hidden by the tight bandages wrapped around the lad's chest, stark white against the marked skin. Slowly and gently Hercules started to spread the salve across his friend's shoulders and down his back, touching as lightly as he could to avoid causing further discomfort. He felt rather than saw Pythagoras scramble to the bottom of the bed behind him to get a better look, and knew without turning around that the young mathematician's blue eyes would be wide and filled with horrified sympathy.

In spite of Hercules' gentle handling Jason still arched away from him, moaning in pain as his big friend's hands ghosted over the places on his body that were the most tender. Murmuring apologies the burly wrestler continued his work, his words a constant soft flow of reassurance, hoping that in spite of the current pain his friend would gain some relief from his actions. He turned and cast a glance at Pythagoras, his worry bleeding through in his eyes.

Pythagoras returned his gaze steadily and smiled weakly in reassurance, trying to let Hercules know that he was doing the right thing no matter how much discomfort Jason seemed to be in right now. The young genius carefully unstoppered the bottle Hercules had handed him and took a long sniff. He relaxed slightly as he smelt the contents and correctly identified the herbs. It appeared that this doctor did indeed know what he was doing. He was positive that it would not harm Jason to take an extra dose. Casting about himself, Pythagoras retrieved the cup used for his own medicine and wiped it out carefully with the corner of a clean blanket before carefully measuring out some of the painkilling tonic. He glanced at Jason and took in the shallow, pained breathing and the little lines around the eyes that indicated the fact that his friend was suffering and topped the cup up with some extra tonic. If he could get on top of whatever pain his friend was feeling, he reasoned, things would be much easier.

"Here," he said holding out the cup, "drink this."

Jason took the cup gratefully and attempted a grin – although it had to be said that the attempt was half-hearted at best.

"Thanks," he muttered, trusting that Pythagoras knew what he was doing in giving him the extra tonic.

As the combination of salve and tonic kicked in Pythagoras was gratified to see the tension begin to leave Jason's shoulders as he relaxed back into the chair, squirming slightly in an attempt to find a comfortable position.

"Better?" the young blonde asked.

"Much," Jason admitted.

"Good," Pythagoras said. From what he had seen Jason's injuries were not too serious although they were undoubtedly painful. A fact for which the mathematician was incredibly grateful. He would really have liked to take a look at his friend's knee as well but perhaps it would be better to wait until the doctor arrived. With a sigh he realised just how tired the conversation and everything it had entailed had made him. Hating the weakness he felt in his own body he crawled back up to the top of the bed and slid back under the covers, allowing his eyes to close for a moment as his head dropped back onto the pillows. Opening his eyes again he found Jason watching him anxiously and hurried to reassure his friend.

"I'm sorry," Jason said guiltily, "you should be resting not dealing with me."

"Do not worry," Pythagoras answered. "I am fine. I am a little tired that is all. Every day I feel a little better."

Jason turned to Hercules, who was leaning against the door frame watching his two companions thoughtfully.

"Are we good now?" he asked. "I mean I know I probably deserved it… but is the lecture over?"

Hercules raised an eyebrow.

"It shouldn't be," he rumbled, "but you're the one paying for your own foolishness and nothing I can say can change that… so, yes, I suppose it is all over."

Jason relaxed even more and smiled at his older friend.

"I still think you need to learn to take better care of yourself though," Hercules continued. "There are times when I could swear that you have a death wish."

"I don't," protested Jason.

"I know," answered Hercules. "It just seems that way at times." He looked hard at the young man with one eyebrow raised. "I think we'd better look at getting your tunic back on," he added firmly. "The day is not warm and you could do with being wrapped up a bit. You'll be more sore if you get cold."

Jason grimaced.

"Couldn't I just leave it off for now?" he asked hopefully. "I mean if the doctor's coming soon I'll only have to take it off again anyway."

Hercules' eyebrow raised even further. He knew that Jason had a distinctly relaxed attitude to semi-nudity and could often be found wandering the house shirtless but that had been in the warmer weather. Now that the temperature had dropped outside the lad seemed content enough to cover up, apparently not liking to be cold any more than the rest of them. It seemed odd that he would now want to go shirtless on one of the coldest days so far.

Then Hercules thought about it. Given how sore to touch Jason was and how much help he'd needed to take the tunic off in the first place it actually made sense that he didn't want to put it back on straight away, knowing that he'd only have to take it off again fairly quickly. The bulky wrestler sighed. Much as he sympathised he didn't want Jason getting too cold and encountering unnecessary pain as his muscles stiffened up even more… but then again, Hercules supposed that it didn't matter whether Jason stayed warm by wearing a tunic or by other means. He smiled and nodded.

"Just wait there," he said.

Moving quickly Hercules made his way back into the kitchen, looking around searchingly. Where had he put it? Then he caught sight of a flash of brown fabric peeking out from under the table and smiled as he bent down to pick up Jason's cloak, discarded in his hurry to check the young man for injuries yesterday. The wool it was made of was soft and warm and of far finer quality than anything any of the occupants of the house had ever been able to afford. Jason _had_ needed winter clothes, Hercules supposed, and the quality of the clothes that Meriones had supplied was sufficiently high that they would last for years, and Meriones most definitely _could_ afford it, and yet Hercules found himself worrying at how dependent on the giant merchant they seemed to be getting. It wasn't Meriones' place to do this, he groused to himself. They were all adults (however much he thought of the two boys as children at times) and as such should be providing for themselves and not receiving charity, however well meant.

Still deep in thought the burly man wandered back into Pythagoras' room, the cloak in his hands. In his absence Isosceles, who had sensibly been hiding under the kitchen shelves while all the shouting had been going on, had taken advantage of the lull in activity and the hush that had descended to make her way back into Pythagoras' room. The kitten, much larger than when Jason had acquired her and already showing signs of taking after her human in terms of stubbornness and wilfulness, had taken up residence in the mathematician's room not long after the young man had become ill. While Jason's bed had always been her favourite sleeping place (and indeed Jason himself had always been her favourite human) she had barely left Pythagoras' side since his illness had begun – clearly feeling that he needed her particular brand of love and attention far more than Jason did at the moment.

Now she hopped up onto the bed and wandered up to the young blonde purring affectionately and forcing her way under his hand. Pythagoras smiled and started stroking her. He had been grateful for her company as he had begun to recover. He friends simply could not spend every waking minute with him and, as he had told Jason earlier, he had found himself becoming bored, and in fact more than a little lonely at times. The kitten had been his constant companion however, purring at him when he was lonely or playing with his trailing fingers when he was bored.

Isosceles continued to purr ecstatically. Eventually though she turned and spotted Jason in the chair at the foot of the bed. She stopped and stared, sensing that something was not quite right with her human. She took a step towards Jason then stopped and looked enquiringly back at Pythagoras, rubbing his hand with her head.

"It's alright," the young man murmured soothingly. "I don't mind."

Whether Isosceles understood his tone of voice or whether she had just decided to go and see Jason anyway, she took no further prompting and trotted to the bottom of the bed purring loudly once again.

Jason smiled softly at the kitten.

"Hey Isis," he said, using the short form of her name that he had come up with. "You're a good girl aren't you? You've been looking after Pythagoras for us." He paused and tickled the little cat under the chin. "You've done a good job. He's going to be better soon… and I'm alright too so you can go and carry on keeping him company."

Isosceles continued to nuzzle his hand for a few moments and then moved back up the bed only to stop and settle down beside Jason's injured knee, nestling into the side of his leg as tightly as she could.

Jason looked at her with amusement.

"You're stubborn," he said softly to the kitten.

"And you're not?" Hercules rumbled from the doorway. "I think we all know who she takes after."

He moved forwards and slipped the cloak around his young friend's shoulders, pulling it around to the front and tucking it in securely.

"This way you can keep that tunic off and still be warm," he said. "It's only until the doctor's been mind. Then you'll be putting your night clothes back on and getting tucked up in bed."

Jason rolled his eyes.

"Sure," he said.

"I mean it," Hercules admonished.

Jason sighed. To be honest he really would quite like to be getting into bed. The thought of resting against a soft mattress was definitely appealing.

"It's alright," he said. "I'll get myself to bed as soon as he's been."

"Good," Hercules grunted as he made his way back out of the room. He was heading towards Jason's "bedroom" in the corner alcove when a knock at the door made him change direction, and he opened it to admit Cinyras the doctor – who appeared to be more or less sober.

"They're both through there," he said without any preamble.

If Cinyras was at all surprised to see Jason in the chair at the bottom of his friend's bed rather than in bed himself, he gave no sign. After all, he reflected, he hadn't actually told the young man that bed rest was on the cards beyond the previous day but had trusted to the fact that the lad would be far too sore to move. It appeared he had underestimated Jason's tenacity and headstrong nature. Well he had dealt with headstrong patients before and no doubt would again so that particular problem failed to daunt him.

Moving quickly to the young man's side, he was all business. He tilted Jason's head up to look into the clear hazel eyes and smiled.

"No pains in your back or neck?" he asked.

"No," Jason answered honestly.

"No feeling of being sick? No sudden and severe chest pains? No coughing blood? No pains in your stomach?"

"No."

"Good," Cinyras said, his smile growing wider. "I should of course have bid you a good afternoon and apologised for being late. A previous patient detained me for longer than I expected and I required a small cup of wine to fortify my nerves afterwards."

He looked speculatively at Jason.

"I don't think unbinding your ribs will serve any purpose other than to cause you pain," he muttered, half to himself. "I already know that three are cracked and as they appear stable I do not wish to dislodge anything by unnecessary movement." He raised a meaningful eyebrow at Jason.

Jason had the good grace to blush and look slightly abashed.

The doctor laughed lightly and patted the lad on the shoulder.

"No doubt your friend out there has already voiced his displeasure," he said as he gestured towards the kitchen where Hercules lurked.

Jason nodded emphatically.

"And no doubt you have eaten," Cinyras continued.

"Yes," Jason answered. "Hercules insisted."

"Good. I won't need to add my own displeasure then," retorted Cinyras, although he smiled to take the sting out of his words. "I think then that we can move on to examining your knee."

With deft hands he unwrapped the strapping he had placed around Jason's leg, dislodging Isosceles from her place in the process and earning himself a hiss from the affronted creature who stalked off to the top of the bed to receive comfort from Pythagoras.

As the doctor removed the bandage, Pythagoras manoeuvred himself into a position where he could see the proceedings more clearly. He grimaced at what he saw. Jason's right knee was far more swollen and inflamed than he had been expecting, the skin all colours of the rainbow with deep bruising. It was immediately clear to the young mathematician that there was no way his friend should be putting any weight on it for the next few days at least.

Cinyras sighed.

"The swelling has not gone down as much as I had hoped it would," he said.

Pythagoras stiffened. It had been worse than that? He shuddered.

"Alright," the doctor continued, "the bottom line is that you absolutely _must_ keep your weight off that leg until the swelling in your knee has gone down. Your knee has nerves that connect the bones and those have been severely stretched when you twisted it. At the moment you risk doing a lot more damage if you try to walk on it – perhaps even tearing those nerves – and that would not be possible to fix. As I have no wish to see you cripple yourself permanently I must insist that until such time as I tell you otherwise you must keep your foot off the floor."

"Can I move about with crutches?" Jason asked eagerly. "I've got some under the bed somewhere…"

"Why?" Cinyras asked.

"I broke my foot a few months ago," Jason answered shortly, his face darkening at the memory.

Cinyras pondered. Clearly there was a story here but he was not likely to learn it now.

"Until those ribs have healed a little I don't want you moving around too much," he said. "Going to the latrine and back will be acceptable. Anything else will not. Once there is no longer any danger of you doing more damage to yourself you can move around more."

Jason sighed. It was about what he had expected really although it was still a bit frustrating.

Cinyras smiled again and turned to examine Pythagoras in spite of the blonde's assertion that it really wasn't necessary. His smile widened. Despite their obvious differences these two young men were probably more alike than even they realised. He suddenly felt a little sorry for their older friend. On the whole, however, the blonde proved far more tractable than his dark haired friend and Cinyras was done with his examination fairly quickly. He turned back in time to see Hercules assisting Jason to get into what appeared to be his nightclothes and settling the young man back into the chair, covering him carefully with the cloak. Cinyras hid a smile behind his hand. He wondered if these three were aware of how like a family they behaved.

"Right," he said to Pythagoras. "You are on the way to getting better. Rest as much as you need and only begin to get up when you feel well enough. I will leave a different tonic that will help to dry up the wetness in your lungs. I understand that you are a healer."

Pythagoras murmured his agreement.

"Then you will know what this tonic contains," Cinyras said. "Take a dose three times a day as well as the other tonic you were already taking. You will recover your strength fairly quickly I believe."

With a final nod towards Hercules he left and let himself out of the house heading off to see his next patient.

Hercules grunted and left the room, heading back towards the alcove that served as Jason's bedroom. He returned shortly dragging the young man's bed with him. Both his young friends stared.

"What are you doing?" Pythagoras asked.

"It'll be easier for me to look after you both if you're in the same room," Hercules answered.

"You don't really need to look after me," Jason ventured. "I'll be fine. Just concentrate on getting Pythagoras well."

Hercules didn't change expression. Having put the bed down near Pythagoras', he turned with his arms folded.

"Fair enough," he rumbled reasonably. "Just take your tunic off for me. I need to check that that bandage is secure."

Jason sighed.

"I can't," he grumbled. "At least not without help."

"That's exactly my point," Hercules growled. "Like it or not you need looking after right now and I'm the one that'll have to do it."

Jason glowered at him, knowing that Hercules was right but not wanting to admit it.

"Look," Hercules said, "Pythagoras isn't well enough to be going anywhere yet and the truth is that even without that knee you really need to be on bed rest for a few days. This way you get to keep each other company so neither of you get too bored or lonely and I can still do what I need to do for the day without having to worry about either one of you. You've slept near one another on enough journeys. Think of it as an indoor camping trip."

Jason sighed again and rolled his eyes. Then he caught Pythagoras' eyes. The young mathematician looked almost hopeful and Jason knew he had lost even before he started.

"I would appreciate the company," Pythagoras murmured. "I cannot concentrate on my work and it is so boring lying here alone. I suggested playing a game earlier but if you were to remain sitting in that chair to play I would only worry that you were uncomfortable."

"Fine," Jason sighed, allowing Hercules to help him to his feet and settle him into bed. He could not help the sigh of relief that he gave as his aching body relaxed into the mattress, nor the roll of his eyes at Hercules' obvious amusement.

The big man nodded with satisfaction and pulled up the stool that Pythagoras had been using as a bedside table between the two beds, fetching the young mathematician's Tilia board from the small table in the corner and setting it up so both his friends could get to it.

With both young men rapidly settling in to a game the burly wrestler left the room. All in all he was rather pleased with himself. In one neat move he felt he had solved several problems. Jason would keep Pythagoras entertained and prevent the lad from becoming lonely, and Pythagoras would keep an eye on his more impulsive dark haired friend and keep him from doing too much damage to himself over the next couple of days as his body healed. Hercules smiled. Now that the boys were settled comfortably he thought he could reward himself with a drink.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Thank you for the reviews... I do look forward to reading reviews!
> 
> I hope everyone enjoys this chapter too - don't forget to let me know if you did!

It was dark when Hercules slipped back into Pythagoras' room, making as little noise as possible. It was nearly time for him to go and meet the merchant he was going to be working for but he felt the need to check on both of his friends first. The night would be colder than ever, the promise of a storm hanging in the air, and he needed to make sure that the storm shutters were in place as well as the usual woven blinds and to build up the fire, banking it around the edges to make it last for as long as possible. At least then he could go to work knowing that the house was as warm and draught free as he could make it. With one friend ill and the other one hurt that was important. He wanted to make sure that both the boys were as comfortable as he could make them even if he was not present. With luck, he thought, they would both sleep through the night – although he could never be quite sure. Jason in particular still suffered from occasional random bouts of insomnia, although it was a lot better than it had been. Much to the young man's disgust he had been subjected to several well-meaning gentle lectures from his friends over the last couple of months about his eating and sleeping habits, and both his friends were far more tuned in to his moods and problems than they had been. Pythagoras in particular had seen Jason's insomnia as a problem for him to tackle head on; the healer in him determined to break the pattern.

For the most part Jason accepted both his friends' attempts to help without too much complaint – although he was known to wander off muttering under his breath at times. Over the years he'd grown so used to his own disturbed and random sleep patterns that what seemed odd to the other two was completely normal to him. It wasn't until it was pointed out to him that he realised just how worried the other two were about him. After that he had submitted to Pythagoras' gentle ministrations and queries without comment.

The mathematician had rapidly discovered that, as with most people, Jason managed to sleep best when he was relaxed and comfortable and had therefore started a campaign to ensure that his friend's stress and anxiety levels were as low as possible. Until his recent illness Pythagoras had devoted the last couple of hours in an evening to quiet and tranquil activities with his friend, sometimes playing quiet games and sometimes telling old stories or recounting old but pleasant memories to one another. A warm drink seemed to help too – either the spiced milk drink that Jason seemed to love and seemed to evoke so many good memories, or, on his darkest days when he seemed to be constantly on edge, a calming infusion of chamomile with added honey for sweetness. All in all Pythagoras was rather pleased with the success of his efforts. Jason slept a lot more peacefully than his friends had ever known, the bouts of insomnia now few and far between.

Storm shutters and blinds in place, Hercules turned back to face the room. Pythagoras slept peacefully, a sprawling tangle of long limbs propped up on pillows to try to help his breathing. His chest sounded nowhere near as congested as it had just a couple of days ago – the wheezing rattle that had worried his friends so much was fading rapidly. Hercules offered up yet another silent prayer of thanks to the gods for sparing his friend when so many others had died of this contagion. The lad was still too pale, even by his own sallow standards, and had lost weight that with his already skinny frame he could ill afford to lose, but those were things that they could address with time. The burly wrestler smiled softly at the young genius and moved over to the bed to pull the blanket a little more firmly around Pythagoras' shoulders.

Turning back around Hercules was surprised to see Jason watching him, his dark eyes thoughtful. The lad had been so quiet that the big man had presumed he was asleep. With a smile he took the two short steps to the young man's bed and crouched down beside it.

"You alright?" he murmured.

Jason glanced across at the sleeping Pythagoras.

"I've been better," he admitted in a whisper. "Listen, I really am sorry that I didn't tell you I hadn't eaten," he added contritely.

"Forgiven and forgotten," Hercules answered quietly. "Or at least it will be as soon as you're back on your feet."

Jason shifted uncomfortably in bed, wincing noticeably.

"How are you feeling?"

"Sore," Jason replied honestly. "Pretty sorry for myself too... but it could be worse."

Hercules frowned.

"You should get some sleep," he said, keeping his voice as low as possible.

"I'm not sure I can," Jason said. "I can't seem to get comfortable." He sighed. "I'll be alright in a few days but I just ache all over at the moment."

Hercules' frown deepened.

"Hmm," he murmured. "You've been taking that tonic like you were supposed to?"

"Yes." Jason rolled his eyes. "I'm not that daft."

"I never said you were," Hercules rumbled reasonably. "The tonic's not helping though?"

Jason grimaced.

"It is," he answered slowly. "Well it takes the edge off anyway. It's just that… well… it wears off after a bit."

Hercules nodded slowly. The last thing he wanted was to go off to work knowing that one of his boys was in for an uncomfortable and probably sleepless night.

"I might be able to help with that," he muttered, levering himself to his feet. "I'll be back in a minute."

In the kitchen he made his preparations as quickly as possible and made his way back to the small bedroom with two cups in his hands – one with steam wreathing above it. He set the hot cup down on the stool between the two beds and sat himself down on side of the bed feeling the bed frame creak and the mattress dip beneath him.

"Sit up a bit," he said softly.

Jason eased himself up the bed carefully until he was half sitting and half lying against the pillows. He took the proffered cup from Hercules and began to raise it to his mouth only to stop and lower it suspiciously. Some of the tonics he'd been subjected to by Pythagoras over the months had left a lasting impression – had been so bad that he would almost rather put up with illness or pain to avoid drinking them again. In particular he remembered the sleeping draught that the young mathematician had decided that he needed when he had had the breakdown. That had been truly nasty and had led to some interesting battles of will between himself (determined not to drink the revolting liquid) and Meriones (determined that he would take it at all costs). If the contents of this cup were anything like that tonic he would have to find a way of disposing of it without the currently vigilant Hercules noticing.

"What's in it?" he asked.

Hercules rolled his eyes. Trust Jason to try to avoid taking medicine that was clearly going to be good for him, he thought irritably. He knew the young man's aversion to some of Pythagoras' concoctions and knew that Jason could be almost diabolically creative when it came to avoiding something he didn't like. Not that he completely blamed the lad of course. He had been subjected to some of Pythagoras' more rancid tonics over the years himself. They always worked in the end but sometimes the taste was indescribably bad. Right now though the cup contained medicine left by the doctor and Hercules was determined that his young friend was going to take it without a murmur.

"It's some more of those powders the doctor gave you dissolved in water," he said firmly. "They worked well yesterday. Now get them down you."

Jason looked down into the cup. The flavour hadn't been too bad yesterday he supposed and it _had_ taken a lot of his pain away even if it had made him sleepy. Actually anything that relieved his current discomfort would be welcome in spite of his fears that it might taste bad. He gulped the liquid down quickly, murmuring his thanks as Hercules removed the now empty cup from him and set it onto the stool.

"I thought the doctor had only left enough of those powders for one dose," he said quietly.

"He had," Hercules answered with a smile, "but Kerkyon dropped by earlier with some more. Apparently the doctor meant to leave them after he saw you and Pythagoras earlier but he forgot. He said you were to take them last thing at night. Said they'd help you sleep straight through without waking up in pain."

Jason nodded. If yesterday was anything to go by it wouldn't be too long before the medicine kicked in. That was what he was hoping anyway. At the moment his knee was throbbing and his ribs ached unmercifully.

Hercules watched the young man carefully. He wasn't a natural nurse by any means but neither of the boys seemed to object to his particular brand of gruff care. The way the pillows were lying did not look very comfortable and certainly wouldn't be helping Jason to rest easily, he decided.

"Sit up a minute," he rumbled.

Jason looked slightly startled at the curt instruction but did at least comply, although Hercules couldn't help but notice how slowly and gingerly his friend was moving. He frowned deeply and lent forwards to plump and rearrange the pillows properly, pushing Jason back down gently to nestle amongst them. Pulling back the covers slightly the big man immediately noticed that some of the blankets elevating and supporting his young friend's knee had become dislodged as Jason had wriggled in search of a comfortable way of lying. With swift hands Hercules collected the dislodged blankets and refolded them, unceremoniously but carefully lifting the young man's leg to slide them back underneath, propping up the injured limb as comfortably and efficiently as he could manage. He didn't fail to notice the little grunt of pain Jason was unable to keep from escaping as his knee was jostled or the faint sigh of relief as he found himself situated a lot more comfortably than he had been. Still moving swiftly Hercules straightened out the blankets and pulled them up to cover his friend properly, settling the lad down for the night whether Jason realised it or not. He was gratified to note that Jason already looked far more relaxed and comfortable than he had just a few minutes earlier. Judging that the steaming cup was now cool enough to drink he held it out to the young man.

Jason looked at him questioningly but smiled as a waft of chamomile hit his nostrils. He took a long sip and sighed with pleasure. Hercules it appeared could make chamomile tea just as well as Pythagoras could (although Jason never called it that in front of them knowing that they had no idea what tea was) and knew just the right amount of honey to add to the brew to suit Jason's tastes – although as far as the young man was aware the burly wrestler had never made it for him before.

"Thanks," he murmured.

Hercules smiled.

"Why do you like that stuff so much?" he asked.

Jason's eyes grew distant.

"It reminds me of Chloe – my foster mother," he said. "She was into herbal remedies and all that. If I had stomach ache she'd give me peppermint and if I was upset or couldn't sleep she'd give me chamomile. She'd come up to my room and sit on the side of the bed and she'd have two cups with her – one for her and one for me. She'd talk about what I'd done that day, or what sort of day she'd had, or what we were going to do tomorrow or next week. It was nice. It always made me feel… wanted… you know?"

Hercules' smile softened, his eyes understanding. He was actually incredibly glad that Jason at least had _some_ good memories of his childhood. Knowing a little (and it really was only a little) of the lad's background he had begun to fear that his friend had no truly pleasant memories to sustain him. While he hadn't been physically abused in the way that Pythagoras had (and the thought of _that_ still made Hercules' blood boil – what sort of father hurt their own child like that?), Jason had certainly been neglected – an unwanted little scrap of humanity – and what had happened with the man, Hector, made Hercules shudder and long to hunt the man down and rip him limb from limb. It never failed to amaze him that his boys had matured into such caring, kind and pleasant young men given their respective starts in life.

Noticing that Jason was beginning to grow drowsy, Hercules took the empty cup from his unresisting fingers and stood to readjust the bed covers, pulling them a little higher to ward off the night's chill. A light hand on his arm made him pause for a moment and he looked down to see Jason looking back at him with trusting eyes, his hand covering Hercules' own and squeezing lightly.

"Thanks," the young man said genuinely.

Hercules had to swallow past the sudden lump that formed in his throat knowing just what that little gesture of gratitude meant. What had he ever done to earn the complete trust and devotion of these two boys he wondered?

"No problem," he muttered thickly.

A sudden snore from the other occupant of the room startled them both and made them look across at Pythagoras. The blonde was sleeping with his mouth dropped open in a most unbecoming manner. Jason couldn't restrain the light and fond chuckle he gave as he looked at his younger friend. Hercules joined him wholeheartedly and sat back down on the edge of the bed looking between the two boys with fond amusement.

"He really is getting better isn't he?" Jason asked softly, his tone affectionate as he looked at Pythagoras.

"Yes," Hercules answered. "Now we've just got to get you better too," he added with mock-sternness.

Jason laughed lightly; a faint whisper of a chuckle.

"Oh I'll be all right," he said ruefully. "No doubt I'll be back to doing something impulsive and stupid in no time… and making you lose the little hair you've got left."

"Scamp," retorted Hercules affectionately. He levelled a long look at Jason, noting how the young man blinked sleepily, the painkiller having done its work once more. "Why don't you close your eyes for a bit?" he added kindly.

Jason nodded distractedly and nestled down further into the pillows, yawning and fighting the urge to drift off before he'd even said goodnight properly. Hercules smiled, knowing that this was one battle his headstrong young friend would most definitely lose. He stood and patted Jason on the shoulder warmly.

"Night," Jason mumbled on the very edge of sleep now as his eyes drifted closed.

"Sleep well my friend," Hercules murmured.

With one last look to assure himself that his two young friends were alright, the burly wrestler made his way over and banked up the fire. The house was as warm as it could be and his friends were as comfortable as he could make them. Content that everything was as good as it could be under the circumstances, Hercules made his way to the door and slipped out into the night. It was time to get to work and earn some money so that nothing like this could ever happen again. With one final look back at the house, Hercules trotted off down the street, a long night ahead of him.

* * *

The wind whipped through the open windows and down the dimly lit corridor stirring up small clouds of dust along the edges and in the corners. Someone had not been doing their job properly and cleaning the Palace like they should. And really would it have been too much to ask for someone to put up the storm shutters in the entire Palace and not just the King's quarters? Pasiphae clenched her teeth as she stalked down the corridor towards her husband's study, her cloak billowing around her ankles. The very idea that she was having to wear a cloak indoors – in her own home – was utterly ridiculous. Obviously the servants had become lazy over the last few weeks with everyone concentrating on the recent plague. She would have to see to the matter in the morning. Punishments would need to be delivered; heads would roll!

At the end of the corridor she stopped and took a deep, calming breath. It would not do to go to Minos in a state of anger. After all she was ready to begin her campaign to bring Jason to the Palace; to bring him to her side. Step one was to reconcile Minos to the idea that her son might potentially be alive somewhere in the world. From there she could slowly prepare the King for the news that in fact the boy was living in their city and had been doing so for many months now. She was sure that Minos would not object to Jason – once he saw the benefits of the situation that was. After all a local suitor for Ariadne was far preferable to the younger son of a rival King who might seek to gain control of Atlantis through the marriage. That had been why Minos was so willing to accept Heptarian as a husband for his daughter despite the fact that he had not been a prince. It would help that Ariadne was already so clearly attached to Jason as well. Pasiphae knew that Minos would do anything for his beloved daughter and that her happiness was one of the most important things in his life. The Queen was sure that Minos would appreciate the political implications as well. Those elements of society who were still loyal to the Aeson (even if they did not show it openly) would be brought to heel. An alliance between the son of the old King and the daughter of the new would heal the last divisions in Atlantian society that had been caused by the civil war. There would be many political advantages to unifying those bloodlines and Pasiphae was sure that Minos would realise what they were; if nothing else her husband was politically astute

Pasiphae smiled to herself, more convinced than ever that Minos could be persuaded. The only danger was how Jason might react. She did not know the boy well enough to be able to anticipate his feelings on the matter, but she had a horrible feeling that Jason could make life extremely difficult if he chose to dig his heels in. What she had seen of his behaviour over the past few months had indicated that her son, while not necessarily blessed with a great deal of common sense, was exceptionally loyal and caring with a strong belief in what was right. He also appeared to be very stubborn, independent and at times outspoken. How would Minos react to such a stepson? The boy clearly had no idea of the proper etiquette of court or of acceptable behaviour in the presence of royalty. Pasiphae shuddered as she remembered the scene Jason had caused when he had dared to raise his voice to Minos in the middle of his own trial. Brave but uncultured, she decided. It wasn't his fault that he behaved like a peasant though. His upbringing had clearly left much to be desired. But he could learn, Pasiphae reminded herself. He had been such a bright, inquisitive infant and she could not imagine that time would have dulled his senses. Her first job would be to teach him propriety; to behave with the decorum expected of a member of the royal family.

Stepping lightly through the door into Minos' inner sanctum, she paused and looked at her husband. The King had never been particularly robust and the burdens of the crown weighed heavily on him. It was obvious in the grey of his beard and the weary slump of his shoulders that Minos was not a truly well man. For a moment Pasiphae felt a surge of what could almost be described as pity for the man. He had not been a bad husband and had always been manipulable, but had also never truly given Pasiphae the power she desired. He had loved his children more than he had loved her, that much had been obvious from the start, and still mourned the loss of Therus. Perhaps he could be encouraged when the time come to view Jason, if not as his own then certainly as someone to fill the gap left behind by his son. Pasiphae smiled again and stepped lightly forwards.

"You are working late, My Lord," she said softly.

Minos sighed.

"With the pestilence dying away there is much work to be done," he answered, never looking up from the document he was reading.

Pasiphae allowed her expression to become grave.

"So many have lost their lives," she said. "So many mothers have lost their sons." She sighed pensively and seated herself in a chair near her husband.

"Indeed," Minos agreed. He looked at his wife for the first time. "You seem sad my love."

"I am afraid that these melancholy thoughts have brought back memories of my own son," answered Pasiphae. "I can't help imagining what he would have been like."

Minos frowned. The Queen had talked so infrequently about the child she had lost over the years that it was easy to forget she had once been a mother.

"I am sure he would have made you proud," he said comfortingly. "Forgive me. I sometimes forget that you have lost a child."

"I was distraught when he disappeared from his cradle," Pasiphae admitted.

"I remember," Minos said. "You would not leave your chambers for days. I held you as you cried."

"The worst part of the affair was that I could never truly be sure what had happened to my son. I have always believed that he was killed but what if it was not true? What if the child lived and was raised by others? What if my son is still alive somewhere out there? We never searched for him. He could have been alive all these years and I would not know it."

Minos' frown deepened.

"There was a confession My Love," the King argued softly. "You know that one of my soldiers confessed to killing the boy by accident and disposing of his body. You attended his execution yourself."

"That soldier had been in the service of Aeson before he changed sides and joined our cause," Pasiphae stated. "What if he never truly changed allegiance? What if he helped to spirit my son away?"

"You are distressing yourself Pasiphae," Minos said firmly. "Surely if your child had survived then we would have heard rumour of it?"

"Oh there were rumours," Pasiphae admitted. "But I made sure they were squashed. I could not bear to hear Jason's name spoken much less hear the tales of the common people about what they imagined had happened to him. I destroyed my own son's memory because I could not bear to remember him."

"Pasiphae…"

"It may be that the boy is indeed dead. I am simply requesting the permission to search; to try to discover the truth," The Queen said. "That is not so much to ask is it?"

"If it will give you peace, my love, then so be it. I am afraid that you will need to prepare yourself for disappointment, however," Minos stated. "I do not believe that the boy could have been hidden so well and for so long and no one know who he is. If he were still alive then surely he would have come forwards to challenge me for the throne by now."

"Perhaps, if he _is_ still alive, he does not know who he is," Pasiphae answered knowing this to be the real truth. "Perhaps he would not have the desire to challenge you."

Minos smiled wryly.

"Perhaps," he acknowledged, not really believing that this could ever be the case. "Search for the boy if you want but be prepared to finally accept that the child is dead. I will support you in this no matter what you may discover."

Pasiphae hid a smile. This was going better than she had ever dreamed. Minos might not believe that her son could be alive yet but nor had he been totally dismayed by the idea. His willingness to do whatever it took to make her happy was something that she supposed most women would find endearing. The was still a long way to go before Minos would accept Jason without having him killed on the spot and even further to go for him to accept the lad as a potential heir and husband for Ariadne, but it was a start.

"Thank you My Lord," she murmured. "You have no idea what this means to me."

She reached out her hand to cover her husband's lightly, a carefully constructed hopeful smile gracing her features. Minos turned towards her with warm eyes and took her hand in his own. He still loves me, Pasiphae thought with a jolt. After everything that has happened he still cares.

Minos opened his mouth to speak when he was interrupted by a sudden sharp knocking at the door. Moment lost he let Pasiphae's hand fall and turned back to the door with a deepening frown, annoyed at the interruption.

"Come in," he barked.

The man who entered was the King's chief advisor, Kephalon. He had never been someone of whom Pasiphae was particularly fond. They resented one another's power and influence over the King. Now though he appeared nervous. Almost diffidently he held out a piece of parchment towards Minos – and diffidence was most definitely not in Kephalon's nature. Minos' frown deepened, correctly reading Kephalon's diffidence as fear of his King's reaction to what the parchment concerned. He snatched the document and scanned it, face draining of colour and eyes growing wide with horror.

"You are certain of this?" he demanded.

"Yes Your Majesty," Kephalon stammered. "My spies have confirmed it."

Minos swore. Pasiphae was mildly surprised. It was rare to hear her husband cursing and could usually only be elicited by the worst of news. He pushed himself to his feet and began to pace, running his hand through his cropped hair in a frustrated manner.

"Summon the Council," he demanded rounding on the hapless Kephalon. He looked towards his wife. "I will require your attendance as well my love."

"My Lord," Kephalon objected. "While the Queen is undoubtedly gracious and talented she is not a member of the Council."

"I wish for the Queen's advice in this matter. She will bring her own viewpoint to the situation," Minos growled. He turned back towards Pasiphae. "I will need your strength and your cunning."

"What is wrong?" Pasiphae asked. "What has happened?"

Minos glowered.

"King Anaxandros has decided to take advantage of the weakness caused to Atlantis by the recent plague. He plans to invade. His troops are already closing in on the city. We must be prepared for war."

Silently Pasiphae cursed her luck. Now would not be the time to make Minos aware of Jason's existence. Her husband's position would be weak and he would not want to risk any danger to his own position by the emergence of a potential rival for the throne. He would be more likely to act impulsively and without thinking about the potential political implications. Now she would have to wait again until the timing was more auspicious. Briefly she wondered if there might not be something she could do to Anaxandros with her _other_ abilities. The man had irritated her and he would soon learn that it was not a good idea to upset Atlantis' Queen.

* * *

In the cold grey light of morning Hercules sat shivering in a small courtyard outside the warehouse that contained the crates he was guarding. He had sheltered for half of the night in a doorway as the storm that had threatened all evening had lashed the city, pouring torrents of water down on the houses and sending gusts of ice cold wind whistling down the alleyways. He was incredibly glad that he had had the foresight to build up the fire before he left home and had put up the storm shutters to try to protect the little house from drafts – at least his friends should have been relatively warm. He shivered again.

The sun had risen a couple of hours before but the sky remained grey and the daylight pale and wan. It seemed that although last night's storm had blown itself out not long before dawn Atlantis was not free yet – another storm was already on its way. Hercules sighed. The merchant he was working for was supposed to have come and relieved him (and for that matter paid him) sometime around sunrise but he was hideously late. Tired, cold and frustrated, Hercules wondered if it would be selfish of him to purchase a jug of wine on the way home. He was chilled to the bone and a cup of warm spiced wine might help to thaw him out. The boys wouldn't begrudge him he decided in the end and there would still be enough money left over for food and the bills when all was said and done. As it was, Jason's errands from the day before yesterday had provided food for the week and Hercules' job now, stretching as it did to a week long, would keep them in food for some time to come with a little left over which no doubt Pythagoras would squirrel away for emergencies. Hercules sighed, still feeling on edge. It was a feeling that he knew would remain with him until both boys were fully well and on their feet again.

A noise from the courtyard entrance drove him to his feet, his hand clutching the hilt of his sword. Then the merchant, Faenus, bustled through the archway, his long robe dragging in the mud caused by the night's rain. The hem was thick and dripping with it halfway to the knee, Hercules noticed dispassionately. He forced himself to relax, driving his sword back into its sheath. It would have helped if he had liked Faenus more but the man was an arrogant fool who thought himself better than others. Still even an arrogant fool paid good money. Hercules stepped back slightly to allow the merchant access to his storeroom.

Faenus looked at him with a barely concealed sneer.

"It is good to see that you are taking such good care of my goods," he said, his voice nasal.

"It's what I'm being paid for," Hercules growled.

A brief and unpleasant smile touched the merchant's lips. He reached inside his robe and pulled out a small pouch of money and held it out to Hercules. The burly wrestler put his hand out to take the pouch only for Faenus to pull it back at the last moment, the unpleasant smile widening.

"You might try being a little more friendly… as I'm the one paying your wages," he smirked.

"You aren't paying me to be friendly," Hercules rumbled. "You're paying me to guard your goods."

"Quite," Faenus said dropping the pouch into Hercules' hand. "You may go." He dismissed the big man with a negligent flip of his hand.

Hercules resisted the urge to swear or thump the man knowing that he still needed the job and would have to return here tonight.

"Thank you," he said through gritted teeth, turning on his heel and stalking away before he did something he might regret.

The agora was buzzing as Hercules stalked through it, busier than it had been in weeks it seemed. Perhaps with the pestilence fading the city was coming back to life and yet there was a tension in the air; a heavy atmosphere that had not been present even at the worst moments of the recent plague; a sense of fear. Some citizens conversed with one another in heavy, urgent whispers and looked around themselves fearfully, while others rushed here and there buying large quantities of food.

Hercules, however, was oblivious to all of it. His tired mind was focussed solely on getting home; on falling into bed and sleeping for half the day; of warming himself by the fire with a cup of warm spiced wine to take away the chill of the night; of checking up on the two boys and making sure that they were alright. He stumbled onwards, pausing only at the wine merchant in one of the side streets leading from the main market square towards his house to buy a jug of "under the table". The merchant was an old acquaintance and held a small supply of the highly illegal but good quality wine in reserve for his best customers.

The house was silent when he quietly let himself back in and dropped his sword onto the table. He frowned lightly. The house felt strange being this quiet. Usually both lads would be up by now and pottering around; usually they were both up before Hercules. On quiet feet he made his way over to Pythagoras' bedroom and peered inside. Both young men were still fast asleep, sprawled out on the beds. Hercules smiled at how young and peaceful they both looked. He backed out of the room soundlessly, not wishing to wake either of his friends.

Moving across the kitchen tiredly the big man made his way over to the fire pit. The fire had gone out although the ashes were still slightly warm indicating that his efforts had kept it burning for a fair portion of the night. He raked the ashes out and started a new fire both to warm himself and to keep the house nice and cosy for his companions. Having made the cup of spiced wine he had been promising himself, Hercules sat back to enjoy it, staring into the flames as his sleepy mind wandered. A quiet knock at the door sent him hurrying over, casting a worried look back towards Pythagoras' bedroom, hoping that the interruption hadn't disturbed the boys.

On the other side of the door Meriones stood, his large face terribly serious.

"Hercules my old friend," he greeted the burly wrestler. "I wished to check how you all are."

Hercules sighed and motioned his friend into the house.

"Gelo spoke to you?" he asked as they sat down at the table.

"Yes," Meriones answered. "I know about Pythagoras' illness and Jason's accident. How are they both?"

"Healing," Hercules responded. "Pythagoras is much stronger than he was. We came so close to losing him. When I think what could have happened…" He paused and sighed. "He is getting better now though. His lungs are clearing. It won't be too long until he's up and around."

"And Jason?"

"Sore as hell but not too badly hurt. That doctor Gelo and Kerkyon brought – thanks for that by the way – wants him on bed rest for a few days – because of his knee more than anything I think. Although he also wants Jason to keep as still as possible because of the damage to his ribs. He's pretty badly bruised to be honest… and too stiff and sore to be getting out of bed and moving around very much. Jason should be fine in a week or so – just as soon as his knee and his ribs heal. I've moved him into Pythagoras' room… makes it easier to look after the pair of them if they're in the same place. Plus they're company for one another."

Meriones sighed.

"And what about you old friend?" he asked. "How are you?"

"Tired," Hercules admitted. "I've been up all night working and I'm not as young as I was."

"And of course you are worried about the boys," the giant said gently.

"No," said Hercules unconvincingly. "They're both grown-ups. I don't need to worry about them."

"But you still do," Meriones answered.

Hercules deflated.

"Yeah," he acknowledged. "I suppose I do."

Meriones motioned towards the jug of wine.

"Do you mind?" he asked.

"No," Hercules answered, "but there's a little warm spiced wine left in a pan on the fire if you would prefer it."

Once Meriones had helped himself to a cup and was seated back at the table the two old friends found themselves enjoying companionable silence. Both were lost deep in thought.

Presently Meriones sighed.

"Troubled times my friend. Troubled times," he said morosely.

"Mmm," Hercules agreed. "At least the fever seems to be disappearing now though. Haven't heard of any new cases in a couple of days now."

"Perhaps," Meriones sighed, "but I do not recall the city being this troubled since the civil war… and what a time that was. The city divided; brother fighting brother and father fighting son."

"Until Minos won," Hercules rumbled.

"But it was never the same was it? The city never quite went back to how it had been before. We lost our innocence along with our King old friend."

"As I recall you spent most of the civil war in Athens with that merchant you were apprenticed to," remarked Hercules mildly.

"I returned as soon as I had leave to, you know that," Meriones protested. "Not that my presence would have made much difference. I am a trader not a warrior."

Hercules held up his hands placatingly. He had no wish to create an argument with his oldest friend over what amounted to ancient history now.

"Still the war might have ended differently if our little Prince had not been killed," Meriones continued.

Hercules frowned, remembering the theory regarding Jason's origins that Pythagoras had come up with a couple of months ago, and uncomfortably aware of the fact that if the mathematician was correct (and he very often was) the prince that they were discussing was currently fast asleep in the next room with his cat curled into his side. The thought that Jason might actually be a prince was almost laughable though – the lad didn't seem to have an ambitious or formal bone in his body and certainly didn't have the aloofness or arrogance that seemed to come with the territory for members of the royal family (Ariadne of course was the exception – although even she held herself a little apart from other people).

"And what if he hadn't been?" he found himself asking. "What if the Prince was still alive?"

Meriones laughed shortly.

"You are talking about an impossibility old friend," he said. "If he were though… what a glorious day that could be. I would not wish to go back to the troubled times of the war by any means, but a marriage between the old bloodline and the new would solve many problems. Our Princess is young but she must marry and it would be better for Atlantis if it were a child of the city. Yet there is no one suitable…" he sighed. "It is not to be though I fear."

Hercules toyed with his cup.

"But what if it was possible?" he asked, knowing that Meriones was a fairly good at judging the mood of the city.

The giant merchant frowned.

"Do you know something that I do not?" he enquired.

"No," Hercules responded quickly.

"But you suspect something," Meriones stated shrewdly.

"No," Hercules said again.

He couldn't resist a quick glance over his shoulder towards Pythagoras' room though – his eyes drawn to it almost magnetically.

Meriones followed his gaze, a dawning suspicion beginning to grow on his face.

"He is the right age," he murmured.

"I don't know what you mean," Hercules growled.

"Yes you do," Meriones responded flatly. "You suspect that the infant Prince that we lost somehow survived and has grown to manhood… and you suspect that he has returned to his city and is currently sleeping in that room." He nodded towards Pythagoras' room.

Hercules tried to splutter out a denial.

"I do not know what reasons you may have for believing this – although you undoubtedly have reasons," continued Meriones, "but your suspicions – if they are correct – could put our young friend in a very dangerous position."

Hercules sighed.

"He doesn't know what Pythagoras and I suspect," he admitted. "He knows so little of our culture and history… I don't think he's even heard of the old King or the civil war. I don't think he's got the first clue of who he might actually be."

Meriones smiled.

"Your suspicions – your secrets – are safe with me," he promised. "We are friends… and since I have no family left my friends are my family."

"Thank you," Hercules said taking a long drink.

"You realise of course that if you are right… if Jason is who you think he is… then he has the potential to change the whole future of the city. His path in life could change drastically if he chose to take it."

Hercules frowned.

"I can't imagine Jason doing that," he said. "I mean, yes, we all know the lad is different… special… but he has no real ambition… and I can't really see him getting on with the stuffed shirts at the Palace either."

"They might find him refreshingly direct," argued Meriones. Then he thought about it. "Perhaps not," he conceded. He looked hard at Hercules "In any case I think you are right to keep this to ourselves… particularly now."

"Why?" Hercules frowned.

"With the trouble that is arising it would be best to cause no further strife within the city," Meriones said. "King Minos needs all the support he can get if the city is to survive. The re-emergence of a potential rival for the throne would be dealt with swiftly and permanently I fear."

"What trouble?" Hercules tried again.

Before Meriones could answer a sudden bump from Pythagoras' room sent the burly wrestler hurrying in that direction, his giant friend in tow.

Jason was sitting on the floor of the room trying to detangle himself from the sheets.

"What exactly do you think you're doing up?" Hercules hissed testily. A quick glance at the other occupant of the room assured him that Pythagoras was still sleeping – his illness engendered exhaustion enough to keep him so fast asleep that he could probably have slept through an attack by the Minotaur.

Jason flushed with embarrassment.

"I fell out of bed," he admitted almost inaudibly. "I was having a lovely dream and I guess I rolled over too much. I woke up when I hit the floor."

Meriones resisted the urge to laugh out loud at the young man's expense.

Hercules, on the other hand, frowned and moved over to Jason, helping his friend to untangle the bed covers from around himself and then gently assisting him up onto the side of the bed. Jason hissed slightly as his body protested the sudden movement. Hercules' frown deepened.

"Have you done any more damage to yourself?" he asked.

"Nah," Jason responded, his blush deepening. "It's just my pride that's hurt this time."

"Right then," Hercules said, "let's get you back into bed."

Jason bit his lip.

"I was wondering if you could bring those crutches in here?" he asked hopefully.

"Jason," Hercules growled, "you know as well as I do that the doctor said you weren't to move around. You're on bed rest for the next couple of days and that's that."

"Actually he said I could… that is… I need to go," Jason finished in a rush, blushing even harder.

"Go where?" Hercules asked uncomprehendingly. "You're not going anywhere except back to bed!"

"You know… _go_ ," Jason tried again squirming slightly. "I really need to go."

Hercules looked at him blankly but sternly, unwilling to budge an inch. Jason on the other hand was blushing a brilliant red and looking anywhere but at the other occupants of the room. If his cheeks got much hotter they wouldn't need a fire to keep them warm, Meriones thought wryly. He jumped in to save his young friend from anymore embarrassment.

"I think that he wishes to use the latrine," the giant informed Hercules quietly.

"Oh," Hercules responded, understanding dawning. "Well why didn't you just say so?" he demanded turning back to Jason and helping the lad to his feet.

"I was trying to," Jason objected, still blushing.

"Did you wish me to go and find the crutches?" Meriones enquired mildly.

"No I don't think so. I can support him just as well as a crutch," Hercules answered. "Besides you might start getting ideas about getting up if they were where you could reach them," he added to Jason, levelling an almost accusatory look at the young man.

"What makes you think I'd do that?" asked Jason, his tone a little hurt.

"Because I know you," Hercules responded immediately. "You're incapable of doing what you're told." He eased the lad around and started to move towards the toilet. "Come on," he said. "Let's get you to the latrine. The quicker we can get there, the quicker we can get you back to bed."

"This is embarrassing," Jason muttered to himself as Hercules helped him across the room.

"I don't see why," Hercules proclaimed.

"I haven't needed help to go to the loo since I was about six," the young man grumbled.

"The loo?" Meriones asked.

"It's a Jasonism for latrine," Hercules answered calmly. "You'll get used to his strange words eventually."

"Could we talk about something else?" Jason asked a little plaintively. "It's embarrassing enough as it is."

Meriones smiled slightly.

"Of course," he said. Knowing that his presence was only adding to Jason's mortification he made his way back to the table and picked up his cup. He frowned as he noticed it was empty and helped himself to some from the jug on the table. Hercules would not mind.

Business done, Hercules started to help Jason hop back across the room, being careful not to tighten his arm too much and thereby cause any extra pain from the young man's cracked ribs. He was well aware that much as he was trying to hide it Jason was wincing with every step. As they came level with the table the burly wrestler felt his younger companion falter and gently lowered the lad onto a stool, crouching down in front of him.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

Jason attempted a smiled.

"Better than I was yesterday," he said. "I was still feeling pretty weak and shaky then. Now I'm just a bit stiff and sore."

"More than a _bit_ stiff and sore I would imagine," Meriones rumbled, his blue eyes concerned.

"Yes," Jason admitted. "Put it this way I won't be objecting too much to be getting back to bed. A nice soft mattress actually sounds pretty good right now." He shifted uncomfortably but smiled at the two older men, trying to reassure them that he was alright.

He was treated to two identical looks of concern and faint disbelief. Clearly neither Hercules nor Meriones fully believed his attempted reassurance, although the burly wrestler did acknowledge that the young man did look much better than yesterday; he did not look so pale or so close to fainting again.

"When did you last have anything for the pain?" Hercules asked.

"When you gave me those powders last night," Jason answered. "I slept right through the night until I fell out of bed just now."

Hercules nodded thoughtfully.

"You're definitely due some more then," he stated firmly, heading into the bedroom to fetch the bottle of tonic.

Jason nodded and watched him leave. He turned back to find Meriones watching him thoughtfully and smiled again.

Meriones' eyes narrowed, even though he returned Jason's small smile with one of his own. He had been away on business for a month and a half and had only really seen the young man on two brief occasions in the two months since he had left Meriones' house and returned home. After everything that had happened while Jason had been staying with him the giant merchant felt the urge to reassure himself that the lad really was better.

"How have you been?" he asked gently.

"Fine," Jason answered. "I mean I get good days and bad days… but I get a lot more good days than I get bad now. I don't have to force myself to be around people anymore and I'm not half as moody as I was so things must be getting better. I just wish I could make Hercules and Pythagoras see that; wish they wouldn't keep trying to protect me from every little thing. It's almost like they're afraid to be themselves around me; like they think I'll go to pieces if they say something wrong."

"Give it time," Meriones advised. "What happened was hard on them both. They were very worried about you."

"I know," admitted Jason with a soft sigh, "and I know that things will get back to normal in time… but is it so wrong of me to want to put it behind me?"

"No," Meriones answered. "I think it's only natural… but you mustn't try to pretend it never happened either."

"I'm not," Jason protested. "I couldn't even if I wanted to. I just need to start living my life again; regaining control."

"I understand… and Hercules and Pythagoras probably do too… deep down. Just give them time and give yourself time too. Your life is a marathon not a sprint."

"Any more words of wisdom for me oh great and wise Oracle?" Jason said with an impudent grin. "Or are we all done with the sermon?"

Meriones couldn't hold back a startled laugh at the young man's cheeky response. Jason gave his own faint chuckle in response, holding his ribcage tightly.

Hercules returned to the room frowning with the bottle of tonic in his hand.

"What's got you two so amused?" he asked.

His two companions looked at each other and grinned again.

"You know what, I don't think I want to know," Hercules grunted. "Sorry I took so long in there. You knocked the bottle off the table when you fell out of bed and it took me a while to find it. It had rolled under the bed and your dratted cat was patting it back and forth."

"Sorry," Jason apologised.

Hercules waved off his apology easily, poured out a dose of the tonic and handed it to the young man.

"So why did you drop by this morning?" he asked Meriones.

"As I told you I came to check on the well-being of my friends," Meriones answered. "Although I did wish to talk to you about the trouble in the city."

"You mentioned trouble before," Hercules noted.

"Indeed," Meriones said.

"What sort of trouble?" Jason interjected, his eyes sharp.

Hercules turned and glared.

"You should be drinking that tonic and then getting back to bed," he admonished. Then he turned back to Meriones. "What sort of trouble?"

He deliberately ignored Jason's pointed sigh and eye roll.

"It was primarily for this reason that I have come to visit you old friend," Meriones hurried on. "I have contacts who will sell me essential supplies without needing to encounter the chaos that I fear the agora will become. I wished to give you their details for when you need to purchase your own supplies."

"Meriones what are you talking about?" Hercules interrupted testily.

"You have not heard then?" Meriones murmured.

"Heard what?" Hercules asked.

"A proclamation was issued by the Palace at sunrise this morning," Meriones said softly.

"I've only just got back from work. I was there until sometime after sunrise and came straight home without stopping to listen to gossip."

"My friends," Meriones rumbled, "the proclamation said that King Anaxandros of Amphigeneia has basely broken the peace treaty set out by his father and King Aeson's father and has taken advantage of the weakness caused to the city by the recent pestilence. Even now his forces approach. King Minos has bid us all to prepare for a siege."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Only two weeks to go now until the second series!
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this chapter - please read and review.

Pythagoras opened his eyes slowly, stretched cat-like and smiled at the ceiling. He had slept well – very well in fact – and felt decidedly better for it. His chest seemed less tight than it had just yesterday and he felt much stronger than he had in some time. His smile widened. He was getting better, he could feel it. Perhaps he could even get out of bed for a short while today and he just knew that somewhere there was a triangle with his name on it just waiting to be investigated. A soft sound from somewhere to the side made him pause. Then he remembered that Hercules had temporarily moved Jason into his room so that they could keep each other company while neither of them was really up to moving around very much.

Not that Jason had ever allowed a little thing like being hurt or ill to stop him from going where he wanted before – much to the chagrin of his friends. Pythagoras sighed at the thought. He had a horrible feeling that Hercules was expecting _him_ to keep an eye on Jason and stop their dark haired friend from getting up and over-exerting himself when he was supposed to be on bed rest. Pythagoras worried that that might be a nigh on impossible task. It was hard enough for him to pin Jason down when the young genius was fully fit and healthy so to ask him to do it when he was weak and convalescing was, he felt, more than a little unfair.

"Are you alright?" Jason asked softly.

Pythagoras turned to face his friend. Jason had propped himself up in bed and was reading a scroll that he'd obtained from somewhere. He was at least doing as he was told for the moment and keeping his feet up, his knee elevated slightly with blankets. Pythagoras smiled.

"I am fine," he said.

Jason raised his eyebrows.

"You sighed," he pointed out. "That's not something that people usually do when they're fine."

"I was just thinking," Pythagoras responded.

"Careful," Jason said, his eyes sparkling with mischief, "that might be dangerous."

"Very funny," Pythagoras retorted primly. "I am not Hercules," he paused and looked around. "Where is he by the way? I had thought that with both of us stuck in bed he would be hovering."

"Not that he worries of course," Jason added with an open grin.

"Of course not." Pythagoras grinned back.

They met each other's eyes and chuckled lightly. Despite his protestations to the contrary Hercules openly worried about them both.

"You didn't answer my question," Pythagoras said, still smiling.

Jason blinked

"I think he's sleeping," he answered. "At least I hope he's sleeping. He _was_ working all night."

Pythagoras frowned.

"I had forgotten," he admitted.

"He made sure I knew that I wasn't allowed to move from here before he went to bed," Jason said wryly. "He even hid those crutches to make sure I couldn't move too far… not that I really want to get out of bed right now anyway."

Pythagoras' frown deepened. It was unlike Jason to want to stay in bed and that worried him slightly.

"You are still in pain?" he asked anxiously.

"Nah," Jason answered. "Not at the moment." He rolled his eyes at Pythagoras' sceptical look. "Hercules insisted on dosing me up with painkillers before he went to bed. I feel better than I did yesterday. I mean… yes I am pretty sore and achy, and still a bit stiff, but it's not too bad if I don't try to move around – my knee starts throbbing whenever I move too much… Actually to be honest lying back against a nice soft mattress is pretty much all I really want to be doing right now. I think it's probably going to be the most comfortable place for a couple of days."

Pythagoras nodded, looking appraisingly at his friend. Jason did look better than he had yesterday and did not appear to be in too much discomfort so the mathematician was content for the moment. He glanced at the stool that Hercules had set up between the two beds. At some point the Tilia board had been taken away and a couple of cups put onto it along with a jug of water. The cup nearest to himself was full.

Jason followed his eyes and smiled slightly.

"Hercules left your tonic on there," he said. "Apparently he didn't trust me not to get up and try to get it for you again… I did try to tell him that I had no intention of doing that but he said it was safer if he got it ready and left it there for you."

Pythagoras nodded as he took and drained the cup. He couldn't help thinking that Hercules was right. However much Jason protested that he wouldn't have moved from the bed, Pythagoras knew that his friend would have tried to ignore his own pain if he believed that the well-being of a friend was at stake and would not have hesitated to get up to fetch the tonic.

"What are you reading?" he asked, looking at the scroll Jason had discarded on his lap.

"Something that Hercules dredged up about monsters," Jason answered. "I don't know where he found it but he said he thought it would keep me out of mischief while you were still asleep."

Pythagoras dreaded to think where Hercules had obtained the scroll. Over the years he had found it was best not to ask where some of the items in the big man's collection had come from. Certainly Hercules did not read out of choice (although the young genius knew that he _could_ read – if not especially fluently) so _why_ he had this parchment was a mystery.

"Is it interesting?" Pythagoras asked.

"It's not bad" Jason responded. He favoured Pythagoras with an almost shy smile. "I've always liked reading," he confessed. "I used to spend a lot of time reading back where I come from."

Pythagoras filed that little snippet away to mull over later. He was always more than willing to lap up any information that helped him to understand his strange friend better.

The two young men lapsed into friendly silence. Jason returned to his reading and Pythagoras watched him for a little while before resting back against his own pillows, allowing his mind to wander freely. The day was dull enough that the young mathematician half wished that the lanterns were lit and briefly wondered how Jason was managing to read without straining his eyes. Then, inevitably, his mind turned towards mathematics and geometry. He sighed in frustration. Before his illness his ideas had been flowing so freely; the leaps he had made had come so naturally that he really couldn't see how no-one had come up with these theories before. Now though his body was betraying him; was still too weak to really let him concentrate properly. It was all rather annoying. Tired of his own inability to think as clearly as he would like he turned back to stare at Jason speculatively.

Feeling his friend's eyes on him Jason looked up and shifted awkwardly. He had never been comfortable with being the object of anyone's scrutiny.

"What?" he asked defensively.

"I wish to check your injuries," Pythagoras said firmly. "If nothing else I would like a look at your leg… and then, if you did not mind, perhaps we could play a game? I am growing rather bored."

Jason looked slightly confused.

"I don't think you can check me over from there," he pointed out, "and Hercules will skin me alive if I try to get out of bed."

"Quite," Pythagoras said. "However I am feeling much stronger today and am perfectly able to come to you."

The young blonde slowly swung his legs out of bed and sat on the side for a minute, reaching for one of the folded blankets at the bottom of the bed.

"Pythagoras I'm not sure that's a good idea," Jason ventured.

"Unlike you I know when I am in danger of over-exerting myself," Pythagoras answered with some asperity. "There is no risk at the moment and I feel too well to stay in bed. Besides it will be far easier to play a game if we are closer to one another."

He pushed himself to his feet and took three or four unsteady steps towards Jason, looking for all the world like a new-born baby fawn taking its first steps. Jason bit his lip and watched him wobble over, holding his breath and unable to speak in case he somehow caused the mathematician to lose his concentration and fall. Carefully Pythagoras lowered himself to sit on the side of the bed, beaming at his own success. He pulled the blanket around his own shoulders and turned to Jason.

"There," he said, "you were worrying over nothing."

Jason frowned deeply.

"If I'd done that you'd have yelled at me," he accused.

"Probably," Pythagoras admitted, "but I knew what I was doing. Now will you let me look?"

Jason sighed and slowly pulled himself forward. He grunted as his ribcage pulled painfully and started to pant slightly from the discomfort he was feeling. Before he could stretch any further he found a hand on his shoulder, restraining him from moving any more. He looked across at Pythagoras to find the young genius watching him, his blue eyes brimming with concern.

"Lie back," Pythagoras instructed, "and breathe." His eyes took on an accusatory glint. "You told me you were not in pain," he said.

"I'm not," Jason protested. "I've got a bit of discomfort when I move and I'm more stiff than anything, but it's really not that bad."

"Hmm," Pythagoras said, his lips pursed. He leant forwards and carefully rolled up his friend's trouser leg, easing it over the knee. Then he unwound the strapping from around Jason's leg and gently began to inspect the limb, probing delicately with long sensitive fingers. He smiled and relaxed, re-strapping his friend's leg securely.

"This is much better," he said happily. "It is much less swollen than it was. Keeping your leg elevated has helped." He raised an eyebrow and looked seriously at Jason. "You must keep following orders though. The doctor was right. An injury of this nature can be serious if it is not treated properly. Your knee will be weak for a while. If you try to walk on it too soon you could do irreparable damage – could end up crippling yourself – could tear the connective tissues. Cold compresses should help the swelling to go down more – I will ask Hercules to help – once that has happened warm compresses should prevent your knee from becoming too stiff. Once the swelling has gone down you should start some gentle stretching but that will not be for a few days yet. For now bed rest is by far the best option – at least until those ribs have begun to heal."

Jason rolled his eyes.

"I know," he answered, "and trust me I have absolutely no intention of doing anything but lying here and being comfortable for the next couple of days."

"Good," Pythagoras said. "Now when did you last eat?"

Jason rolled his eyes again.

"Not you too," he grumbled. "Hercules has been trying to force food on me every couple of hours. He's nagging worse than ever."

"Are you really surprised?" Pythagoras asked. "You did not eat for days and you are in this current mess because of that. Hercules is worried that is all."

Jason sighed.

"I know," he admitted, "and I am sorry. I didn't mean to worry anyone."

"I know," Pythagoras said. He smiled. "Now as I am not tired at the moment would you like to play a round of knucklebones?"

"Alright," Jason agreed, flashing a bright smile.

Pythagoras pulled the stool over to give them a flat surface that they could both reach and dipped inside his blanket for a small pouch that he had picked up before coming over.

They were on their third round when Jason stopped and looked at Pythagoras thoughtfully.

"What is wrong?" the mathematician asked, pausing mid throw.

"Nothing," his companion answered. "I was just wondering… who was King Aeson?"

Pythagoras stared at his friend for a moment.

"Where did you hear that name?" he asked as casually as he could manage.

"Meriones was here earlier and he was talking about some treaty that's been broken that was made in the time of King Aeson's father. I didn't like to ask who he was. Hercules already thinks I'm stupid as it is. Was King Aeson Minos' father?"

"No," Pythagoras sighed. "It is a little more complicated than that." He put the knucklebones down on the stool and turned to face Jason fully. "King Aeson was King before Minos but he was not his father. This is twenty-three or twenty-four years ago now. Minos was one of the nobility but he was not a member of the royal family. Aeson had been king for a few years and was married to the Queen; to Pasiphae. There was a coup at the Palace… a civil war. I am told it was a dark time. Atlantis was in turmoil; father fought son and brother fought brother. There was bloodshed everywhere. King Minos won in the end and King Aeson disappeared... most people thought he was dead but no-one really knows what happened to him." He paused again. "What treaty was Meriones talking about?"

"The treaty between Atlantis and Amphigeneia," Hercules' voice rumbled from the doorway. He raised an eyebrow and looked sternly at his two young friends. "I'm glad to see you're actually doing what you're told for once," he said to Jason, "but what exactly do you think you're doing up?" He turned to Pythagoras.

"The doctor said I could begin to get up when I felt well enough," Pythagoras stated reasonably. "I feel so much better this morning that I did not think it would do me any harm to be out of bed for a short while."

His argument would perhaps have worked a little better if he had not ended with a bout of coughing. Hercules glared.

"I will return to bed the instant I feel tired," Pythagoras argued, "but for now it is better for my lungs to be sitting upright and I brought a blanket to ensure that I did not grow cold."

Hercules sighed. Much as he was itching to swoop in and pop Pythagoras back into bed he had to admit that the lad was a gifted healer and would know what the best course of action with regards to his own treatment was.

"Did you sleep well?" Jason asked, trying to divert the conversation away from what he was worried was about to turn into an argument between his friends.

"I slept alright," Hercules conceded. He sat down on the stool that the two young men had been using as a table.

Pythagoras frowned.

"Going back to what we were talking about," he began, "who has broken the treaty between Atlantis and Amphigeneia?"

"King Anaxandros," Hercules answered shortly. "Apparently he's decided that with Atlantis being weakened by plague, now would be a good time to invade. According to Meriones the King issued a proclamation this morning to tell everyone to make ready for a siege."

Pythagoras gasped and turned to his burly friend with wide eyes.

"A siege?" he repeated.

"Yes," Hercules said. He looked at his two friends. "I'll nip out in a bit and get some supplies – just in case – but it shouldn't affect us too much."

"Not affect us?" Pythagoras repeated incredulously. "There is an army heading our way intent on invading the city and you say it will not affect us?"

"Well not at first anyway," Hercules said. "I know things might get a bit tougher later but right now all you need to be worrying about is getting better."

"But if Anaxandros' army should get past the walls there will be fighting in the streets," Pythagoras fretted.

"The walls are pretty thick though," Jason pointed out. "I don't think anyone would get past them that quickly."

"We have always managed to get into and out of the city easily enough even when it has been locked down," Pythagoras stated.

"Yeah but we're not an invading army," Jason argued. "There's only three of us. It'd be a lot harder for an army – even the city guards couldn't fail to spot that many men."

"There's no point worrying yet anyway," Hercules rumbled. "Anaxandros' army is nowhere near the city yet and there's always a chance they'll turn back. Even if they don't it could be a week or two until they get here – plenty of time for making preparations."

"I suppose so," Pythagoras finally agreed, his brow still furrowed with concern.

Hercules looked appraisingly at his companions. He would have suggested that they should return to their game but Pythagoras looked far too worked up for that. A distraction was in order then. He settled back more comfortably on the stool.

"Did I ever tell you the story of how I captured the Erymanthian Boar?" he asked.

Pythagoras rolled his eyes.

"Yes," he said flatly.

"Well I haven't heard it," Jason objected.

Hercules smiled.

"Funny story actually," he said watching both his friends settle in to hear the tale. "It all started when I went out for a drink with my old friend Pholus..."

* * *

Minos rolled his neck painfully and frowned deeply. It had been a difficult day. There was little doubt now that Anaxandros of Amphigeneia intended to invade; that he was taking advantage of what he saw as both Atlantis' and Minos' weakness to breach the peace treaty laid down by his father so many years ago. Minos vaguely remembered Anaxandros' father, Hagnon. He had been a nice old man as far as the King recalled, who had believed that peace would be far more profitable for his isolated city state than war. Hagnon had dreamed of a day when Amphigeneia was a trading hub and had viewed Atlantis as a valuable potential trading partner. His treaty with Aeson's father, Cretheus, had ended centuries of turmoil and decades of open warfare between their kingdoms.

Hagnon's son, Anaxandros, was a completely different proposition however. Arrogant and cruel with a burning jealousy of his richer neighbours and was deeply ashamed of what he saw as his father's capitulation to Cretheus. He had no interest in trade and was grasped by a fervent ambition to expand the borders of his kingdom.

He had always been difficult to deal with but had never before gone so far as to breach the peace treaty, fearing both the power of Atlantis and the stigma attached to being an oath breaker. Now though, with Atlantis' perceived weakness, he had decided to make his move and try to stake a claim for the city itself. It was a bold and dangerous move.

Minos sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. The latest reports indicated that Anaxandros' force was at least a week and a half away from reaching Atlantis and he had despatched messengers to his fellow King to try to prevent the inevitable bloodshed that would occur if Anaxandros could not be diverted from his current course. Not that he held out much hope that his overtures would be successful. Anaxandros had never been known for being particularly reasonable and he had clearly bided his time; picking his moment carefully. Minos had therefore issued his decree to the population to prepare them for a siege and had sent further messengers to the settlements and farms surrounding Atlantis to warn them of what was to come and to invite the occupants to retreat to the safety of the city. It was all being done just in case of an attack, but Minos felt that given the nature of his opponent it was a prudent move. By the time the envoys sent to Anaxandros returned it would be too late to make any preparations.

In this, however, Minos had had to fight his own advisors. Kephalon in particular had been most vocal in his disapproval, feeling that the proclamation would cause unnecessary panic and that Anaxandros would be sure to see reason in the end. He had never openly argued with his King of course but his disapproval had been clear and he had made sure to make increasingly vocal alternative suggestions at every turn. Kephalon had also objected to the idea of opening the city to refugees from the surrounding countryside too. He had argued that the city would not be able to support the influx of people and that it would put an unnecessary strain on the economy. Minos had been adamant however and had been backed to the hilt by Pasiphae.

The King smiled at the thought. The Queen had instantly grasped what the councillors had not – that preparing the people for the worst now would mean that there would be less panic at the crucial moment. It would be disastrous if the streets were full of panicking citizens at the moment when Anaxandros finally attacked. Pasiphae had advised caution; had suggested quietly preparing for the siege and informing their allies of the latest developments. Kephalon had openly objected, saying that it would make Atlantis appear weak. Minos smiled again at the memory of Pasiphae's reaction. She had remained calm and cool in the face of Kephalon's bluster, reminding him that they were not asking anyone for aid and would certainly appear weaker if the city fell through lack of preparation. She had been utterly reasonable but extremely icy and there were few who would challenge her in that mood. Minos appreciated her strength, her calm reserve and her sharp political mind perhaps even more than her grace and beauty. If she had only been born a man… Gods what a King she would have made!

As if thinking about her had summoned her, Pasiphae quietly let herself into the room behind Minos. The King turned to look at her, taking in her upright carriage and graceful movements with a smile. How he loved this woman; their long years together dropping away as he watched her coming towards him.

"You look tired," she said gently.

"I am," Minos acknowledged. "It has been a long day."

"Do not worry My Lord," Pasiphae responded. "Anaxandros will come to realise the folly of his actions soon enough."

"I am not worried. The city will stand, of that I am sure. There are a great many things to prepare though; things that only the King can deal with it seems."

Pasiphae moved to a table and looked down at the almost empty wine amphora with a soft frown. Quickly summoning a servant, she sent the girl off to replenish the supply and bring some other items she required with a few sharp words – making sure that the servant understood that the Queen was displeased to find that the table had not been replenished automatically and that she would be making enquiries to find out who had been shirking their duties. The serving girl had gone grey at the reprimand. Everyone knew that the Queen was not a person to cross and to risk an official reprimand from her was to flirt with danger.

"I have sent for some food," Pasiphae told Minos firmly. "You need to eat My Lord. You will need your strength in the days to come."

"You are too good to me," responded Minos. "It is at times like these that I am most reminded that I do not know what I would do if you were not at my side."

He paused as the unfortunate serving girl stumbled back in carrying a heavy tray laden with food, wine and sweet smelling herbs. She cowered under the dark glare Pasiphae levelled in her direction, knowing that he prospects for avoiding an official reprimand were slim. Having put her burden down on the table she sighed silently in relief. Perhaps the Queen would not say anything in front of the King. She ventured a look at her angry mistress and her heart plummeted again.

"Inform the servants responsible for cleaning and supplying the area around the royal quarters that I will see them in the west chamber shortly," Pasiphae's voice was frigid, "oh, and make sure that you are with them. I would hate to have to repeat myself more than once."

Once the girl had removed herself from the room, already trembling in anticipation and on the verge of tears, the Queen turned to the tray and began to crush some of the herbs with her fingers, adding them to a cup of wine which she poured from a jug. Mixture made she walked purposefully towards her husband, holding out the goblet to him. Minos took the drink and looked into it thoughtfully, before placing it down on the table and returning to the parchment he had been trying to read.

"My Lord," Pasiphae said, "the drink will remove your headache and help you to concentrate. If you do not want wine then I will get you something else, but the herbs it contains will be beneficial to you."

Minos smiled and picked up the goblet, sipping at it.

"It is most welcome," he admitted. "Although I feel the weight of the crown lying on me as never before. Is this what Aeson felt, I wonder, when I made my play to take the throne?" He sighed.

"Minos you must not allow these dark and morbid thoughts to weaken you now. My former husband would never have worried so much. Noble Aeson could not envisage a world where he was not universally loved." Pasiphae spat the words "noble Aeson" with as much sarcasm and vitriol as she could manage. "You are tired and prey to these dark thoughts because of it. Come and eat my love… and then rest for a while. There is nothing so pressing that it cannot wait until you have regained your strength… and everything you do will be better for it."

"Perhaps the gods punish me," Minos murmured. "First the contagion and now this invasion. Perhaps they were angered by everything we did to take the throne."

"The gods do not punish you," Pasiphae responded sharply. "Anaxandros is an ambitious man. You know this. He has long looked for a way to expand his own domain and ensure the downfall of Atlantis. But come, enough of this, let us eat together and enjoy one another's company… at least for a little while." Her tone and her eyes softened.

Minos smiled softly and allowed Pasiphae to draw him to his feet and lead him to a low couch in the corner of the room.

"You are right as always, my love," he said gently. "I do not know what I would do if I lost you."

Pasiphae smiled as she laid herself down on an adjoining couch. It had only been a few short months ago that she had been prepared to murder the man alongside her in her quest for power and yet it seemed he was still to be useful to her. Part of her knew that she should despise him and yet they had been comfortable together for many years now, she mused. She did not love him – she never had – but in spite of herself she found that there was still affection left. It had been buried deep within the heart that she had tried to harden and deny for so many years now, but was slowly creeping up on her, surprising her when she least expected it. It was all Jason's fault – this sudden overabundance of feeling. Her obsession with her son was going much too far and making her weak; prey to other needless emotions. And yet she yearned for him in a way that she would never have believed to be possible.

With the threat of a siege hanging over the city she could not help but worry. True she had seen for herself that the boy had come through the recent plague unscathed but now he would be trapped in a city under siege; a city whose streets would become increasingly dangerous; a city that could well begin to starve if the situation went on long enough. And there was no way that she could help him; no way that she could bring him to the safety of the Palace or ensure that he had enough food; no way that when the call to arms came (as it would for every able bodied man soon enough) that she could prevent him from being gathered up with the rest of the citizenry and expected to fight. Stifling a sigh Pasiphae poured herself a goblet of wine and lay back, still deep in thought. She looked up to see Minos watching her thoughtfully.

"You are worried," he said softly.

"Not about Anaxandros," Pasiphae answered firmly. "I was merely thinking… Many of the young men who will be expected to fight if the Amphigeneians should attack are little more than boys. No older than my son… it hardly seems fair that they should be asked to die for their city when they have hardly had chance to live."

"It is as it has always been my love," Minos argued. "The young have always taken the forefront of any battle. They will be defending their homes and they will do it willingly."

"I know," Pasiphae answered.

"It is more than that though, is it not?" Minos asked shrewdly.

Pasiphae narrowed her eyes. She had given away more of herself than she had intended. Perhaps that would not be such a bad thing, however. Minos had not appeared to be particularly against the idea of her son still being alive when they had spoken yesterday. A little risk now might pay dividends in the future.

"I have spoken to the Oracle," she said softly.

Minos tensed.

"And what did she say of the future?" he asked. "What of the future of the city?"

"She did not speak of the future of the city," Pasiphae said. "She told me that the rumours that I quashed all those years ago were right; my son _is_ alive."

Minos froze.

"She told you this?" he asked slowly.

"Yes," Pasiphae confirmed. "She told me that he thrives. I asked her why she had not told me before and she answered that it had been her duty to protect him," she added bitterly.

"Did she tell you where he was?" Minos demanded, his face incredulous.

"She told me that he was not far away and that our paths would run as one," Pasiphae answered. "It appears that he has no idea of who he really is; of the fact that I am his mother."

Minos watched his wife; watched the sorrow and hope playing across her features. Much as he feared the consequences of her son being alive – feared that the boy would desire the throne and would try to take it from him – he could not begrudge her the hope that she might regain the child she had lost. How many people were given that chance after all? If the boy challenged him then that was a bridge they would have to cross. For now, however, the King would try to please his wife; would try to make her happy and share in her joy at finding her child once more.

"We will find him my love," he promised.

"And what then?" Pasiphae asked. "Whatever happened between you and I and his father, he is innocent in all of this."

"I will do nothing to harm the boy," Minos promised. "If he does not threaten me then I will see no harm come to him."

"Thank you," Pasiphae answered. This was going better than she had ever dared to hope. True, Minos was not ready to learn Jason's identity yet nor to accept the lad fully, but the groundwork had been laid. She reached forward and plucked some fruit from a bowl, noting that Minos finally began to eat as well.

They ate for a while in silence, both lost in their own thoughts. Presently though a knock at the door drew the attention of them both and they turned as one as Ariadne let herself in.

The Princess looked a little tired Pasiphae noticed, trying hard not to gloat. It appeared that Ariadne had not been sleeping well for some time and she thought she knew the reason why. It was the same reason that kept her awake at nights too: Jason. He had begun to intrude into both their thoughts far too much, although the Queen had a feeling that he had been in Ariadne's thoughts ever since his arrival in Atlantis.

"Father," Ariadne greeted the King.

"Ariadne," Minos acknowledged her presence with a smile.

"Father I need to talk to you," the girl said in her clear, high voice.

"What is it you wish to say my child?" her father asked.

"I wish to resume my duties at the Temple in the morning."

Minos sucked in a breath.

"That will not be possible, Ariadne," he said firmly.

"Father you said that once the threat of the plague was passed I could return to my duties," Ariadne objected.

"I did," Minos admitted, "and I meant it… but the situation has changed. Even without the threat of contagion it is too dangerous for you to visit the Temple. With Anaxandros threatening to invade I would not have you leaving the Palace. I would go out of my mind with worry if there were to be any risk to you. You are the most precious thing in my life and I will not risk your well-being for anything."

"But surely we must ask the gods for help," argued Ariadne. "Now more than ever I should resume my duties. If the people see me then perhaps they will be less afraid."

"Ariadne," Minos began.

"My Lord," Pasiphae swept in quickly, "Ariadne is correct. Above all things we must maintain order; must maintain calm. If the people see us going about our regular duties they will believe that we are unafraid; that we are not worried about this upstart Anaxandros; that everything is as normal. There will be less panic that way. Allow your daughter to resume her duties until such time as Anaxandros draws near the city and do not encumber her with extra guards. You will see that it is for the best."

Ariadne shot a quick look at her stepmother, unsure of the game the Queen was playing but willing to go along with her for the time being.

Minos frowned deeply.

"This is what you sincerely believe?" he asked Pasiphae.

"It is My Lord," Pasiphae responded smoothly.

"Very well," Minos sighed. "It shall be as you say. Ariadne may resume her duties tomorrow." He turned to his daughter with a hard look. "If the danger increases I will not hesitate to confine you to the Palace though."

"Of course," Ariadne murmured. "I will abide by your wishes."

Minos stood and took his daughter in his arms, smiling. He placed a kiss against her forehead.

"It is late," he said, "and you appear tired. You should retire to your chambers for the night."

"I will," answered Ariadne, "Good night Father."

"I love you more than _anything_ ," Minos said hugging the girl.

"And I you," Ariadne answered.

It had become a ritual between them to bid one another goodnight in this way.

"I shall bid you goodnight also My Lord," Pasiphae said, coming to her feet. "I have need to have words with the servants before I retire. They will be awaiting me in the West chamber."

Minos nearly winced. He had no doubt that the servants would be thoroughly chastened when next he saw them.

"You are tired also," Pasiphae continued. "You should retire for the night My Lord. There is nothing of such urgency that it cannot wait until the morning."

The King smiled.

"You are right," he said. "I will retire as you suggest. Good night my love."

Once the two women were outside the door Ariadne grabbed her stepmother's arm.

"Why did you support me?" she hissed suspiciously.

Pasiphae smiled coldly.

"We should not always fight Ariadne," she murmured. "If only for the sake of your father we should at least try to get along."

"That's not the real reason," Ariadne answered. "You have some other motive."

Pasiphae looked down the corridor beyond the girl. They were alone. The Queen sighed in exasperation.

"You wish to make sure that he is well, yes?" she said, her tone all business. She did not feel the need to clarify who _he_ was knowing full well that Ariadne would know exactly who she meant.

"I do not know what you mean," Ariadne responded stiffly. "I merely wish to resume my duties at the Temple and to pray to the gods for the safety of the city and its people."

"Do not take me for a fool!" Pasiphae retorted. "You wish to ensure that Jason was not harmed by the contagion."

Ariadne looked at her mutely, unwilling to give the Queen the satisfaction of agreeing with her.

"I wish for the same thing," Pasiphae went on, "but unlike you I can hardly ask him myself. I will help you to see him and I ask only that you bring me news of him."

"You are worried," Ariadne murmured wonderingly. It seemed completely alien to her for Pasiphae to care about anything other than power.

"Of course I am worried you silly girl," the Queen snapped. "He is my son."

It was strange for Ariadne. She had grown so used to seeing the power hungry manipulative Queen of Atlantis and yet over the last two months the sorrowful mother had appeared more and more often. There were times when she almost felt sorry for Pasiphae. Mentally she shook herself. This would not do. She could not really afford to let her guard down where Pasiphae was concerned and her own pity for the woman meant that she was in danger of doing just that. Still there was not harm in doing as her stepmother asked on this occasion. She smiled faintly.

"I will bring you news of him," she promised. "But I am doing this for Jason."

"Of course," Pasiphae responded. "Now I think you should retire for the night before your father comes out and finds us here. It would spell disaster if he were to find out about Jason prematurely."

"Very well," Ariadne answered. "Good night."

"Good night Ariadne," Pasiphae said.

She watched the girl make her way down the corridor to her own quarters and smiled. Everything was going to plan. Soon Jason would be at her side and she would have the keys to ultimate power.

* * *

Princess Ariadne paced the floor of the Temple restlessly. Her father had been as good as his word and for two days now she had been allowed to come and go as she pleased, unmolested and unchallenged. Knowing that Jason tended to visit the Oracle at times of trouble and having met him here several times in the past Ariadne had lurked around the Temple in the hope of seeing him. Surely if there was ever a time for him to visit the Oracle it would be now? Yet she had seen neither hide nor hair of the young man and by the third morning she was growing increasingly fretful. In spite of the risks it presented it seemed that she would have to go and seek him out herself; that she would have to go to his home. That in itself was not a problem as far as Ariadne was concerned but she would need to be careful so as not to alert the guards. She could not risk her father finding out where she was going after all. Given that Minos had banned her from ever seeing Jason again she did not think he would take too kindly to her rebellion and the bulk of any punishment would quite obviously fall upon Jason. She would need to be both sneaky and cautious.

"Something troubles you My Lady?" Melas' resonant voice sounded from behind her.

Ariadne turned, startled. Whilst the chief priest's presence was not unexpected she had not heard him approach.

"No," she answered. It sounded weak and untruthful even to her own ears.

Melas simply looked at her, his eyes kind but firm.

Ariadne sighed.

"It's Jason," she admitted. "I had hoped to see him here. He usually visits the Oracle when trouble comes doesn't he? I have waited for two days but he has not come. I have not seen him for some time; not since before the disease gripped the city. I have feared for him."

"Jason has not felt the need to visit the Oracle for some time," Melas said quietly. "I have prayed for him and for his friends."

Ariadne smiled weakly and grasped his hand.

"Thank you," she said simply.

"You are not the only one who cares for Jason," the priest said gently. "He is a young man who easily inspires loyalty – even though I believe that he himself is unaware of it."

"With Anaxandros' forces approaching the city and the threat of an invasion I fear for Jason more than ever," Ariadne fretted. "I know him too well to believe that he will not join the fight. I worry that the gods will not look favourably upon him."

"I am not the Oracle," Melas murmured, "but Jason has greater strengths than you know."

"Still," Ariadne said, "I wish there was some way I could make sure that he is well; that his friends are well. I owe all three of them a debt."

Melas smiled kindly.

"In that I believe I may be of some assistance," he said. "If anyone should ask I shall tell them that you are consulting the Oracle. You will not be able to stay long with Jason but it might give you the time you need to reassure yourself of his well-being."

Ariadne smiled properly, grateful for Melas' kindness.

"Thank you," she said again, drawing the hood of her cloak up over her head and looking around carefully to make sure that there was no-one nearby to note either her presence or her departure. With one swift movement she turned and hurried across the Temple, heading for the great front doors and the street beyond.

* * *

Hercules came out of his bedroom, stretching and yawning. The rumble in his belly told him that it was about time he had something to eat. Working nights was easier when he had someone to share the load with but neither one of his friends was really in a fit state to be helping him at the moment. Things were definitely looking up though, he mused.

Pythagoras grew stronger every day and was beginning to resume his daily activities. He still had a cough and looked even paler than usual but he was regaining a little weight (thanks largely to Hercules nagging him to eat). It was true that he tired easily but would take himself off for a rest with no persuasion necessary. Pythagoras at least knew the benefits of resting and not over taxing himself while he convalesced.

Having the two lads recovering in the same room had been a good move. They had kept each other company nicely and stopped each other from becoming too bored. Even though Pythagoras had begun to get up for short periods a couple of days ago, rapidly gaining strength and stamina, Jason had been stuck in bed for the last three days. Hercules had expected to have a fight with his strong-willed friend; had expected Jason to try to sneak out of bed at every available opportunity; had expected the young man to argue against the restrictions put on his movements. He had been completely thrown by the lad's acquiescence. Far from arguing Jason had actually been completely docile and compliant and, apart from the occasional visit to the latrine (which never seemed to get any less embarrassing for the lad) had seemed happy to stay put in bed. It seemed deeply out of character for someone as active and independent as Jason and had begun to worry both his friends, with Pythagoras trying to check him for fever on several occasions only to have his hands batted away with a laugh and a "gerroff" – which Hercules had taken to mean "leave me alone". Jason had admitted to being a bit too sore to want to move around too much and to being more comfortable in bed than anywhere else but Hercules couldn't help but worry about how quiet he seemed.

Now that he thought about it though Jason had been growing increasingly quiet over the last few weeks, although he _had_ sought out the company of his friends far more often. The burly wrestler frowned. The young man was not withdrawn – not the way he had been after Alektryon's attack a couple of months ago – and yet he seemed to drift off into daydreams a lot more often now. Perhaps he always had though and it was just the first time that Hercules was noticing it. After all Jason used to disappear off for long meandering walks on his own on his moodier days and Pythagoras had always believed that he used those walks to think. Since he had been ill, however, he had stayed much closer to home and with the weather worsening and storms lashing the city he had tended to sit out on the balcony or on the end of his bed and disappear inside his own head rather than wandering aimlessly as he used to. Even after two months Hercules wasn't sure whether he should be grateful that Jason seemed to want their company more often now or worried about the change in his young friend.

At least the doctor had been this morning (arriving early just as Hercules was about to go to bed) and had decided to allow the young man to move about again. Apparently his cracked ribs and twisted knee were healing well and Cinyras had decreed that he was well enough to get out of bed, albeit using crutches until his knee healed a little more and under strict instructions to be careful for the time being. Hercules had half expected Jason to overdo it almost immediately but so far he had done exactly as he was told.

Looking around himself now, the burly wrestler quickly spotted Pythagoras sitting at the kitchen table, his drawing tools and scrolls spread out around him, deep in thought. Hercules smiled affectionately. Pythagoras was essentially a creature of habit. Give him some triangles to look at, a scroll to investigate or a problem to solve and he was happy. Every so often he would give a little cough and his hand would snake out to catch hold of the cup he had placed near himself. If yesterday was anything to go by that cup would contain a gooey mixture of boiled and strained flaxseed and honey. Hercules shuddered. He didn't even want to imagine what it tasted like but if it was doing his young friend some good then he wasn't going to complain.

That just left Jason unaccounted for. Hercules glanced around the room. While the bruising to his other friend's body was fading and while he was undoubtedly far less sore than he had been, he was still stiffening up more easily than normal – particularly when he got cold or grew tired – and the day was far from warm. Hercules frowned and made his way onto the balcony in search of the young man.

Jason was leaning against the edge of the balcony, balancing himself against one of the supporting pillars and staring down into the street below. Hercules' frown deepened as he watched his friend silently, never letting the young man know he was there. Jason looked worried – unhappy even – and he radiated tension. It concerned his big friend. Jason was still not known for voluntarily sharing his problems – had to be pushed into talking about his troubles – but both his friends were now well aware of just how destructive allowing those problems to fester could be. Whether he was willing to admit it or not Jason tended to fare a lot better when one of the others could persuade him to share his burdens. It seemed that today was going to be Hercules' turn.

"Everything alright?" he rumbled.

"Mm," Jason answered noncommittally, never taking his eyes off the street.

Hercules sighed and sidled up next to him. It seemed like it was going to be one of _those_ conversations when drawing any sort of response out of Jason was like pulling teeth.

"I thought you'd be so pleased at being let out of bed that you'd be bouncing off the walls by now," Hercules said neutrally.

"I am pleased," Jason protested. "I was just… thinking… that's all."

"About what?" Hercules asked.

Jason remained silent for a time, still looking out over the street – so long in fact that Hercules began to think that he wouldn't answer at all and started to try to think of another way of getting his friend to talk. Eventually though the young man sighed.

"Everything looks so normal," he murmured softly, "and then you look closer and see how anxious everyone looks."

Hercules' frown deepened even further.

"People are bound to be worried," he agreed. "After all it's not every day that an invading army heads our way."

"I suppose not," Jason answered. He turned to look at Hercules. "Aren't you worried though… just a little bit?"

Hercules looked at his companion seriously. So that was what this was about.

"Of course I am," he rumbled gently. "But I've lived through sieges before – lived through an entire civil war before – and I'm too old a bunny to start panicking now. There's no point borrowing trouble. Either the Amphigeneians will invade or they won't. There's not much we can do about it either way. Best thing we can do right now is stay calm and get ready… just in case."

Jason nodded and attempted a smile, although it had to be said that it was a pale ghost of his normal expression.

"Ok," he said. "I can do that. Like you said there's not much point worrying anyway, is there?"

"None at all," Hercules agreed. "You didn't seem too worried when we talked about it the other day though."

"Pythagoras was worried enough for all of us," Jason answered, his smile growing a little more genuine. "I didn't think it would help anyone if I got too worried too. Besides it would only have upset him even more."

Hercules nodded. In a strange way that made sense. Jason could always be relied on to think of his friends before he thought of himself.

"You've not seen a siege before, I'm taking it?" he asked.

"Hercules I'd never even held a sword before I came to Atlantis."

Hercules nodded again. From the way Jason had held a sword when he first arrived the burly wrestler had suspected as much, although he did have to admit that the lad was an incredibly quick learner.

"I did wonder," he said. "You were pretty useless. Even Pythagoras was better. I think you dropped it more than you held onto it at first."

Jason chuckled, remembering their first practice sessions in the first few weeks after his arrival when the big man had taken it upon himself to teach Jason at least the basics of sword fighting.

"Probably," he agreed.

Hercules grinned back at him, pleased to have raised a smile.

"That's better," he said. "You were beginning to look altogether too miserable for a minute there." He looked hard at his younger friend. "Now I know that doctor cleared you to move about but didn't he say something about taking it easy and not doing too much?"

"Hercules I've hardly been doing a lot," Jason protested. "I've just been standing here and watching the world go by."

"Precisely," Hercules argued. "You've been standing… and if the look on your face was anything to go by, for a while too. It's time you sat yourself back down again. Besides I think it's about time to eat a little something… for all of us," he added with a significant look at Jason.

Jason rolled his eyes but smiled.

"Alright," he agreed. "Let's go."

As they turned to go back into the kitchen they both failed to notice the hooded figure making its way purposefully down the street, heading in the direction of their small home.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N So tonight's the night for series 2 to begin! The wait is finally over!
> 
> Please don't forget to leave me a line or two if you enjoy this chapter...

Pythagoras looked up from the table as his two friends approached from the balcony. It was good to be working again even if he did find himself tiring more easily than usual and having to take breaks to rest at the most inopportune moments. He frowned as he spotted Hercules. The burly wrestler was worrying about something no matter how much he might try to hide it. Pythagoras had simply lived with him for too long not to be able to pick up on the signs. The big man was edgy, his worry plainly written in his eyes whenever he looked at his dark haired companion. So that was it then; he was worrying about Jason. Not that that was an unusual occurrence these days. Although he tried to hide it Hercules had been worrying about Jason for the last two months solidly, even if the young man would prefer that he didn't. It was only natural Pythagoras supposed. After all he had spent a fair bit of time worrying about Jason himself in the aftermath of his breakdown, especially on his darkest days. Neither one of them ever wanted to see their friend like that again.

It was therefore with some trepidation that the young genius turned to look at his brunette friend. Jason looked a little tired he noted with a frown. It was possible that he hadn't been sleeping all that well and that this particular bout of insomnia had gone undetected by Pythagoras – even if they were currently sharing a room – given that the mathematician had been spending an awful lot of time asleep as he recovered from his illness. As he watched Jason carefully lowered himself onto a bench, leaning the crutches against the table. He was still moving a lot more slowly and carefully than usual and holding himself a little more stiffly but on the whole was clearly recovering from his fall.

"What?" he asked defensively as he realised he was being watched.

"You have grown cold out there and stiffened up," Pythagoras accused, his frown deepening.

Jason rolled his eyes and sighed.

"It's not too bad," he objected. "I'd have come in sooner if it was."

Both his friends looked at him incredulously. Jason was not known for employing common sense when it came to his own well-being. Without another word Pythagoras slipped into the bedroom and came back with a light blanket which he threw at his friend. Jason caught it deftly although neither of his companions missed the slight wince as his still healing ribs pulled or the slight hiss he couldn't help escaping. Pythagoras glared at him. While he knew it was irrational he almost took injuries to his friends as a personal affront, particularly if said friend was in any sort of discomfort and chose not to say anything – which with Jason was an all too familiar occurrence. Grumbling under his breath he fetched a cup from the shelves and poured one of his favourite herbal remedies into it, banging the cup down on the table in front of Jason almost aggressively.

"Drink," he instructed firmly. "It will help ease any stiffness you have and soothe away any aches and pains."

Jason rolled his eyes again but knew better than to argue – particularly when Hercules was watching him with his arms folded, clearly prepared to back Pythagoras to the hilt. He picked up the cup and drank the contents, pulling a face at the bitter taste as he did.

"Urgh," he grumbled. "What's in that? No wait. Don't tell me. I don't think I want to know."

"It is an infusion of white willow bark, ginger and almond," Pythagoras responded promptly. "I am aware that it is a little sour. Unfortunately willow bark is bitter but it is one of the best painkillers that I know. Perhaps if I were to add some honey or mint to it it would become more palatable."

"I don't think there's anything you could do to make _that_ taste better," Jason answered. "That has to be one of the nastiest things you've ever made me drink… and why am I holding a blanket?" he added.

"It is a cold day and you have stood outside for too long," Pythagoras began.

"Pythagoras," Jason interrupted.

"Jason you look chilled through," Pythagoras continued. "Please. I worry. You seem tired."

Jason mentally winced. He hated worrying his friends – although he still wasn't really sure why they worried about the likes of him. If ever there was anyone that deserved to live a life free from worry it was Pythagoras. Without any more thought of complaining he slipped the blanket around his own shoulders.

"Sorry," he muttered, grabbing Pythagoras' hand. "It is a bit chilly out there but I really am fine. I should have come in sooner but I was thinking."

"About what?"

"Nothing important," Jason answered with a quick glance at Hercules. "I was a bit worried about something but a good friend set me straight." He smiled softly at the big man.

"This thing that was worrying you," Pythagoras said, "has it been stopping you from sleeping?"

"No," Jason answered honestly. "The people next door were arguing again last night. I think their son's coming back from Pathmos and Eupalinus didn't sound too happy about it. It kept me awake for a bit that's all."

Pythagoras breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed somewhat. At least Jason's most recent sleepless night had a genuine cause and was not just down to his random insomnia. He smiled at his friend and turned back to his drawings. Before he could lose himself in them again Hercules pointedly cleared his throat.

"Are you going to clear that lot up so we can eat?" Hercules rumbled.

Pythagoras looked at him in some surprise. He hadn't even been aware that Hercules had been preparing a meal and yet the burly wrestler was clearly standing beside a steaming pot of something with a spoon in his hand. Normally the cooking was a task that fell to Pythagoras (and which he enjoyed to be honest) but since his recent illness Hercules seemed to have taken over the kitchen, determined that the young genius should get as much rest as possible. Somewhat abashed the young genius started to clear up his scrolls and drawing equipment as quickly as possible, dropping several things in his haste. More quickly than he would have expected though everything had been shoved inside the leather satchel he used to transport his work back and forth to the library and the satchel itself had been stowed under the table.

Hercules grunted as he deposited the steaming pot of food on the table right in the spot where one of Pythagoras' scrolls had been mere moments before.

"Get that down you," he instructed.

His two companions looked at each other for a minute and then attacked the food with gusto. Hercules smiled benevolently at their enthusiasm, pleased that for once he wasn't having to nag either one of them to eat properly. Then he realised that that might mean he missed out himself and dived in to get his own share. Large portion secured and held protectively, he turned to look at Pythagoras.

"After we've eaten you need to go and get some rest," he proclaimed. "A nap will do you the world of good."

"Hercules," Pythagoras started, preparing to marshal his arguments, "I am at a most crucial stage of my work and I am not at present tired."

"The triangles can wait, Pythagoras. Your health can't," Hercules stated firmly.

"Hercules you are worrying too much. I am perfectly fine and do not need a nap," Pythagoras tried.

Hercules didn't say another word. He just folded his arms and glared at the mathematician.

"You are being unreasonable," Pythagoras complained. "I know my own body better than anyone."

"Now you know how I feel," Jason muttered, half under his breath.

Without changing expression the big man turned and faced his other young companion.

"Don't think you're getting away with it either," he said firmly. "When he goes for a nap I want you in there with him taking the weight off your feet. You've been standing around out there for too long and I'm not having that knee getting worse again because you don't have the sense to know when to sit down."

Jason didn't even bother arguing this time. Much as he hated to admit it Hercules was probably right. His knee _was_ aching again and he couldn't help thinking that it might feel pretty good to put his feet up for a while. He also agreed with his bulky friend on the subject of Pythagoras. The blonde still looked tired and his recent illness was still too fresh in his friends' memories for them not to worry.

"Fair enough," he agreed. "When Pythagoras goes for a nap I'll go with him and put my feet up."

It was a bit of emotional blackmail, Jason knew, but he felt no qualms about it whatsoever. Pythagoras was so kind and gentle that he would never risk _Jason's_ health by his own actions.

The mathematician sucked in a breath.

"That is not fair!" he exclaimed.

His companions exchanged a look. Before either one of them could answer there was a knock at the door. It was a soft, almost hesitant, tapping – as though the person knocking wasn't really sure that they should be. Being nearest to the door Jason automatically moved to push himself to his feet only to find a firm grip on his arm restraining him. The young man looked up, startled, to see Hercules glaring back at him with his eyebrows quirked.

"You stay there," the big man growled. "I'll get the door."

Jason sat back down and exchanged a rueful smile with Pythagoras. To tell the truth he hadn't really thought when he had gone to stand up; had responded to the tap on the door out of habit.

Hercules was still looking at him in exasperation, his hand hovering over the door latch.

Jason blushed slightly.

"Sorry," he muttered. "I forgot."

Hercules shook his head slowly and opened the door. For a moment he stood there with his mouth open and his eyes bulging slightly, not quite believing who was standing on the other side. Jason leant forward with a slight hiss as stretching pulled on his ribs to peer around the frozen Hercules, wondering what had surprised his friend so much. His eyes widened as his own surprise registered.

"Ariadne," he exclaimed with some consternation. "What are you doing here?"

"I… I… have been worried," Ariadne started. "With the recent plague and now the threat of a siege, I wanted to make sure…" Now that she was here her fears sounded childish to her own ears. "I was worried," she finished lamely.

"About me?" Jason asked with surprise. "Why? I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," the young man responded awkwardly.

"Aren't you going to invite me in?" Ariadne asked quickly.

"Of course," Jason answered.

It wasn't that he didn't want to see Ariadne – of course he did. It was just that he wasn't sure he wanted her to see him in the state he was in at the moment. At least he wasn't stuck in bed pretty much immobile any more though; at least he was up and around. It would have been dreadfully embarrassing to have had Ariadne arrive while he was still too stiff and sore to put his own tunic on; for her to see him in that state – especially since it was essentially his own fault that he had ended up in that position. Not that she hadn't seen Jason in bed before of course – when he had been badly hurt after his disastrous journey to Helios with Dakos, and when he had spent the night in her room after trying to assassinate Pasiphae. But the first time he had still been too ill to care about little things like being embarrassed, and the second had been her suggestion – and one of the most enjoyable nights of his life so far.

"Well then?" Ariadne gently prompted.

"Erm… would you like to come in?" Jason asked, utterly failing in any attempt to be nonchalant.

He'd never really been very good at small talk – particularly when caught unawares. Most of the time he could speak easily to Ariadne, the conversation flowing naturally between them, and he certainly loved listening to her, but occasionally – when she surprised him – he still found himself floundering like a hopeless teenager; flustered and saying the first thing that came into his head to try to get himself through the conversation – usually with embarrassing results.

It really didn't help at the moment that Pythagoras was watching him with interest as though he were a particularly interesting new problem to solve and Hercules was looking on with amusement from the doorway. It wasn't as if either of them were all that smooth, Jason thought irritably. Pythagoras had never really been known to speak to women (unless it was to try to explain his mathematical theories and didn't _that_ go down well with the ladies) and Hercules, whilst he was undoubtedly charming with women, came up with the most ridiculous and fantastic lies and excuses whenever he was caught off guard.

"Listen Ariadne," he tried. "It's not good that you're here… I mean… it's great and everything… but…"

"Don't you want me here?" Ariadne asked sadly. "I have risked much to come."

Jason immediately felt about an inch high.

"It's not that," he said. "It's just… well… I know how much of a risk it is for you and I don't want anything to happen to you and I can't see them being very happy at the Palace if they knew you were here. What would happen if you got caught? Besides we've got a problem with… mice," he improvised badly.

"Mice," Ariadne repeated, looking around with her eyebrow raised. "Where are they then?"

"Err… dunno," Jason laughed awkwardly. "Not here apparently." He cringed to himself when he thought no-one was looking.

"Would you like a drink, My Lady?" Hercules asked solicitously, finally deciding to come to Jason's aid although perhaps not in the way the young man would have liked. "We have wine. Come and sit yourself down and I'll get you some."

One of these days, the big man mused, he really would have to sit both his friends down and have a long chat about the difference between boy-people and girl-people and how, as a man, you spoke to women. It wasn't a task he had ever envisaged having to take on and would undoubtedly be embarrassing for all three of them but he thought it probably needed doing. Half the time Pythagoras didn't seem to be aware that anything other than his blessed triangles existed and Jason… well with Jason's looks (and Hercules was honest enough with himself to acknowledge that the young man was incredibly good looking) he never thought he would need to have the talk with _him_. Yet over the months it had become increasingly apparent to the burly wrestler that Jason had about as much experience of women as he had had of handling a sword when he first arrived in Atlantis. Really it would be doing the lad a kindness to explain things to him. It was fortunate, Hercules supposed, that Ariadne seemed to find Jason's awkwardness endearing.

"It is a little early for me to be drinking wine," Ariadne answered softly. "Perhaps some water?"

"Really?" Hercules said incredulously. "Sit yourself down anyway."

Ariadne smiled softly and made her way around the table, looking about herself in appreciation. The house that Jason shared with his two friends was small and cluttered and more than a little run down but it was warm and cosy and had that indefinable quality that marked it not just as a house but as a home. She could be happy here, she decided, sitting around the table with the three men, listening to their playful banter and sharing in their obvious affection for one another until late in the evening. The other two would slip away at some point and leave her alone with Jason, basking in the warmth of his love. She sighed slightly. It was a pleasant daydream – and one which she indulged in all too frequently – but she knew that under the present circumstances it could not be. Even if Pasiphae succeeded in her goal of reconciling Minos to the existence of her son, Ariadne knew that her father would want Jason to go to the Palace; would not be happy for him to remain living on the edge of poverty in the city; and if he proved unwilling to leave his old life, would certainly never accept Ariadne coming here. And come to that how _would_ Jason react? Would he be willing to leave this life where he was happy with his friends? Would it even be fair of her to ask it of him, even if it was the only way they could be together?

She sighed again and looked around the room for something to distract herself with. Pythagoras, she noted with a frown looked tired and much paler than usual. Perhaps he had been unwell? She made a mental note to ask Jason at some point. If Pythagoras had succumbed to the fever that had gripped the city and was now recovering then perhaps there was something she could do to help. If nothing else she could make arrangements to have extra food delivered – true it had been easier to arrange when Medusa worked in the kitchens but now at least she could call on Pasiphae for help… however much it went against the grain to ask her stepmother for anything. All she would have to do would be to suggest that Jason was going hungry and she had the feeling that his mother would swing into action using Ariadne herself as cover.

With a smile to herself, Ariadne continued to allow her eyes to roam the room. Eventually they came to rest on Jason and her smile widened. Then, of course, almost inevitably they fell on the pair of crutches propped against the table, the top bars peeking over the edge. Jason followed her eyes and grimaced.

"I thought you said you were fine," Ariadne accused.

"I am," Jason answered. "They're not for now, they're for… later." The young brunette cringed to himself again, shaking his head at his own inability to hold a sensible, rational conversation. He resisted the urge to beat his head against the table top.

" _Really_?" Pythagoras murmured incredulously. "That's the best you could come up with?"

Jason sighed.

"Listen Ariadne," his tone became earnest, "I really am alright. I fell down some stairs a few days ago and I've sort of twisted my knee a bit but it's not too bad. I mean yes I'm using crutches at the moment and probably will be for a few days but it's on the mend." He smiled reassuringly. "The doctor's just being cautious."

Hercules snorted as he placed a cup of water in front of the Princess.

Jason shot him an irritated look.

"You really will be alright?" Ariadne asked worriedly.

"Yeah," Jason answered with a grin, flashing his dimples at her unconsciously. "I'm not saying I'd want to repeat the experience – I've never been that big a fan of pain – but I'm a lot better than I was a few days ago. It won't be long until I'm back to normal."

"He really will be alright," Pythagoras chimed in, his expression earnest. "He is not badly injured; just sore. With rest he is healing rapidly. I give you my word." He broke off with a short cough.

Ariadne stared at him seriously.

"And you?" she asked. "Are you also healing rapidly?"

"I'm sorry?" Pythagoras responded. "I do not think I understand."

"You have been unwell," Ariadne asserted. "You are pale and tired. You have had the fever?"

"I have been unwell," Pythagoras agreed, "but I am nearly well now."

Ariadne did not miss the way that both Hercules and Jason tensed. She had a suspicion that Pythagoras had been very ill indeed if their reactions were anything to go by. Now more than ever she was determined to help in any way she could. That basket of food she had been considering would be a good start. Pythagoras clearly needed to build his strength back up and with the threat of a siege food might begin to become scarce in the city. There was plenty in the Palace storerooms, however, and she could ensure that Jason and his friends at least had supplies to see them through the next few weeks.

A sudden flurry of movement out of the corner of her eye caught the Princess' attention. Before she could turn to see what it was it ran towards her and jumped up onto the table.

"Hey," Jason said tapping the kitten on the nose, "you know you're not supposed to be up here when there's food on the table."

Ariadne smiled and reached out to stroke the silky white fur, marvelling at the softness beneath her hand.

"Who's this?" she asked.

"She's Jason's cat," Hercules rumbled.

"You have a cat?" Ariadne asked Jason. "I thought you said you had a problem with mice." Her tone was amused.

Jason looked more awkward and embarrassed than ever – much to Ariadne's amusement.

"You're beautiful," she said to the kitten. "Does she have a name?"

"Isosceles," Pythagoras answered.

"It's a triangle," Jason added, at Ariadne's confused look. "Don't ask. We let Pythagoras name her."

Pythagoras looked slightly hurt.

"I think it is a very good name for her," Ariadne answered, returning to stroking the purring Isosceles. Then she sighed.

"I must return to the Palace soon," she said softly. "I can only 'consult the Oracle' for so long before I am missed and my father would not hesitate to assign extra guards to protect me if he thought it were for my own good."

"Of course," Jason responded. "You should go back before anyone notices you're missing."

"I still have a few moments though," Ariadne stated moving around the table to sit alongside Jason and taking his hand in her own.

Hercules cleared his throat less than subtly and looked hard at Pythagoras, gesturing towards his own room with a jerk of his head, wanting to give his friend a few minutes alone with the woman he loved. Pythagoras looked at him blankly and shook his head in confusion, not understanding in the slightest what the big man was getting at. Hercules shook his head in exasperation and caught hold of the neck of his friend's tunic with one meaty hand, pulling the young man along with him as he marched off. With the other hand he grabbed Isosceles, who squeaked in consternation as she was unceremoniously jerked off her feet.

"Come on Pythagoras," Hercules said jovially. "There's something we need to look at in my bedroom. I think there might be a goat under my bed."

"A goat?" Pythagoras exclaimed as he tried to avoid tripping over his own feet. " _Really_?"

Jason watched them go with amused affection.

"I think that was Hercules' way of giving us some time on our own," he said lightly.

"Yes," Ariadne agreed. "He was hardly being subtle about it."

"Trust me. For Hercules that was subtle," Jason laughed. He turned back to Ariadne, noting the distant expression in her eyes. "What are you thinking?" he asked.

"I was thinking how much simpler our lives would be if I had not been born the daughter of a King," Ariadne answered softly. "We would be free." She sighed. "I do not know when we will see one another again. In the days to come, with Anaxandros invading, I do not know what will happen."

"I won't let anything happen to you," Jason asserted earnestly. "You do know that don't you?"

Ariadne nodded and reached her hand up to his face.

"Yes," she murmured.

Without even thinking about it she leant forwards, her hand sliding up to tangle in his curls whilst the other came around to rest on his back. Then they were kissing; sweet, stolen kisses full of love and desire. Eventually though they pulled apart, foreheads resting gently against one another as they both fought to catch their breath. Finally Ariadne pulled away.

"I really must go soon," she said reluctantly.

"I know," Jason answered.

"I have been talking too much," the Princess murmured.

"I like listening to you," Jason responded gently.

"I just wish…" Ariadne trailed off with a sigh. Then she pulled herself together with a little shake. "How ill has Pythagoras been?" She asked, changing the subject.

"He nearly died," Jason answered, turning to look towards Hercules' room where he knew his friends were lurking.

"He will need to build his strength back up," the Princess stated firmly. "I am led to believe that there are certain herbs and foods that can help with that. I will arrange for them to be sent from the Palace kitchens."

"You don't have to do that," Jason protested. "We're doing alright. Hercules has got a job at the moment."

"I want to," Ariadne answered. "Your friends have risked their lives for me. I owe them both a great debt. Please, Jason. Allow me to do this one thing for Pythagoras' sake."

"It's too risky," Jason answered. "How would you explain it to your father?"

"Melas will help me as he has done before," Ariadne said. "I will tell my father that I am making an offering at the Temple if he should ask. I will tell him that I am importuning the gods to protect the city from the ravages of the Amphigeneians. If anyone should ask then I am sure Melas will corroborate me story."

"Ariadne…"

"Jason I am going to do this whether you like it or not."

Jason sighed.

"Thank you," he said.

Ariadne smiled softly.

Jason turned and glanced out of the window, noting the darkening clouds outside.

"You should go before another storm breaks," he said.

"Yes," Ariadne answered, "but I think we have a few more minutes." She leant forwards and took Jason's hands in her own again, peering deeply into the warm hazel eyes and marvelling once more that he could be in any way related to the cold and power-hungry Pasiphae.

"Ariadne," Jason murmured. "If you don't go now I think you might end up getting wet and your father might want an explanation given that you're supposed to be safely in the dry at the Temple."

Ariadne gave a rueful laugh, knowing that he was right.

"Alright," she answered. "I will go." She laced her fingers briefly through his. "Whatever happens over the next few days promise me that you will be safe."

Jason sighed.

"I promise that I'll try to stay out of trouble," he said. "At least until my knee heals."

Ariadne shook her head. That was the best promise she would get out of him she supposed. Stealing one last kiss, she pushed herself to her feet and having bid Jason a distinctly fond farewell slipped out onto the street, pulling the hood of her cloak up over her head as she went.

* * *

The refugees from the surrounding countryside had begun to arrive in the city some six days after Minos' proclamation bringing with them stories of the atrocities of the invading Amphigeneian army. As the force grew closer so the trickle of refugees became a flood; many of them bringing with them whatever possessions they had been able to carry. The farmers had had a little more foresight than most and had begun to pack up the contents of their storehouses as soon as the warning from the city had arrived. They trundled through the wind and rain lashed streets in their carts, their families and possessions riding with the produce from their farms and their fields burning behind them; determined as they were not to leave easy food for the invaders.

At least they had brought their own food with them, Pasiphae thought grimly as she watched the flow of refugees making their weary way across the Temple square from an overlooking window in the Palace. The goods the farmers had brought were swelling the storehouses of the city but with a siege imminent that could only be a good thing. Many of those who had been displaced from their homes came with nothing but what they stood up in, their faces bearing expressions of shock. Few it seemed had heeded Minos' warning, believing that Anaxandros would turn back at the last minute; that a full scale invasion would never happen. They had been wrong.

A further proclamation from the King had seen the citizens of Atlantis opening their doors to the newcomers; utilising any spare rooms they might have to accommodate the refugees. Now though most of the houses in the city were full to bursting point and the doors of the Temple had been opened up to house any further arrivals. Not that many would come now, Pasiphae supposed. The latest word was that Anaxandros' army was little more than a day away from the city; would reach the walls by sundown tomorrow. All of Minos' messages had gone unanswered and his emissaries ignored. Now the serious business of war would begin.

For one thing the Queen was grateful though. That was that if Ariadne was to be believed (and Pasiphae had no reason to disbelieve her at this time) Jason would not be able to join the inevitable fighting on the city walls – at least not yet. Her heart had clenched when Ariadne had told her that the young man was injured; that he had hurt himself days earlier and she as his mother had not even known. She could hardly believe that he would simply fall down some stairs though. After all had she not seen him fighting in the arena? Flying over his opponents with ease? Further enquiries had revealed that a young dark haired man had passed out at the top of the city wall some days earlier and had fallen down the steps that led to the street. The Queen had been horrified. She had no doubt in her mind that this had been Jason – although she could not have explained her conviction as no-one present seemed to have known the lad's identity. He could have been killed and she would not have known. And why had he fainted anyway? Ariadne's visit to his home had confirmed the fact that he had not succumbed to the epidemic that had swept the city, although one of his friends had apparently been unwell. _His friends_. Peasants, Pasiphae thought bitterly. They were hardly suitable companions for a royal prince.

At least the Queen had been able to ensure that her son would have enough food to eat for the next few weeks, even if there was little else she was able to do to protect him. Ariadne's suggestion that a basket of food delivered through herself and the priest Melas might help Jason had been seized at once by the worried mother who had marched straight to the kitchen and ordered that just such a basket should be prepared and delivered to the Chief Priest at the Temple. The kitchen staff held her in far too much fear to object; had not even dared to wonder at her request. With the threat of an invasion it made sense that the Queen was making extra offerings at the Temple; was trying to importune Poseidon for his aid.

The city guards were forming up in the square, Pasiphae noted dispassionately. They were preparing to sweep the city; to go from door to door and make a record of every able bodied man below a certain age and any arms and armour that they might possess. Once the siege began the men and boys of the city would out of necessity have to take a turn at manning the walls; would have to be ready to repel an attack and lay down their lives for their King and their city if necessary. A strict rota would have to be drawn up to begin with to ensure that everyone who was able took their turn. This was absolutely essential the Queen knew and yet she couldn't help but feel a little grateful that Jason's recent injury would keep him from being swept up in this. She wished him no harm of course and would rather he hadn't hurt himself at all, but if ever there was a good time for him to have done so this was it. No, the city guards would not take a boy who could not walk without the use of crutches so for now at least Jason would be safe; would not be expected to take his turn until his leg had healed. She would have a few days respite at least before she truly needed to worry about him. I am growing weak, she thought. Giving in to my fears and that will not do. Now above all she needed to remain calm and resolute. She could not allow herself the luxury of worrying about one specific individual – even if that individual happened to be her son. Now more than ever she needed to find a way to make Jason acceptable to Minos. At least if her son were at the Palace she could be certain of his wellbeing. He would still have to take part in the defence of the city but at least she would know where he was. It was the not knowing that was the hardest part, she decided.

The pointed clearing of a throat behind her drew Pasiphae from her thoughts and made her turn around sharply, caught off guard. That was not like her and she silently berated herself for her own inattention, her face hardening as she realised that she had been discovered lost in her own thoughts by the Captain of the guard; the replacement for the late, and in her eyes unlamented, Ramos, whose name she could never seem to recall. Not that his name really mattered anyway; he was a giant of a man, picked for his size rather than his intelligence. That had been a mistake, Pasiphae felt. Whatever else Ramos had been he had been intelligent and it was his intelligence that had allowed him to keep the royal family safe for so many years. There had been no-one of the same calibre to replace him, however, and Minos had simply elected to promote one of the longer serving guards in his place. To be fair to the King he had still been severely weakened by his illness at the time and had not really given the matter the attention that he ought to have, caught up as he was in the wrangling between his wife and daughter and in the aftermath of Heptarian's death.

"What is it?" the Queen asked sharply, irritation at being taken by surprise hardening her tone even more than usual.

"The King requests your presence in the Council Chamber, My Lady," the man responded.

Pasiphae wondered waspishly how long it had taken her husband to make this great oaf understand the simple instruction to come and fetch her.

"And did my husband give any indication as to why my presence was required so urgently?" she asked.

Her companion seemed to be mulling it over for an inordinately long time – more, Pasiphae believed, because he was trying to work out exactly what she had asked than because the answer required careful contemplation.

"The King did not say," he answered eventually.

Pasiphae sighed. In truth she knew that Minos would only have requested her presence at a time when he was closeted with his most senior advisors if he felt it was truly necessary and that in itself spoke volumes to her. Turning sharply on her heel she strode off down the corridor with the lumbering Captain trundling in her wake and servants scattering ahead of her. The dressing down she had given the group of servants responsible for the area around the royal chambers a few days earlier had been remarkably thorough and news of it had spread among the Palace servants like wildfire. As a result they were all keen to avoid offending the Queen and it was well-known amongst them that she had been in a bad mood ever since the recent epidemic had broken out in the city. The threat of an invasion had hardly lightened her mood as all the servants were now well aware.

At the door to the Council Chamber Pasiphae paused and took a deep breath to centre herself. It would not do to go bursting in; to appear to those present as though she had nothing better to do than to run after her husband; to give his advisors the satisfaction of seeing her appear less than calm and collected. Smoothing the front of her dress and straightening the gold necklace that framed her throat the Queen drew herself up to her full height, her bearing and carriage regal. With a quick glare at the men guarding the entrance to the room she waited for the doors to the chamber to be opened for her. As the doors swung inwards Pasiphae walked towards the raised dais and the two thrones at the head of the room with carefully studied grace, her movements deliberately unhurried and calm. The Queen of Atlantis would not _run_. She might, she conceded, be persuaded to hurry if someone were chasing her but under normal circumstances she would never compromise herself by moving at anything more than a regal glide.

Stepping up onto the dais she seated herself on the second throne – taking her customary place on her husband's right hand side and surveyed the room through half-lidded eyes, daring anyone to challenge her right to be in this male dominated environment.

Minos glanced at her, his lips twitching imperceptibly, fighting the urge to smile. This was Pasiphae at her finest. This was the Queen that men underestimated at their peril and few would dare to disobey. Indeed it was only the hardiest of souls that did not feel a frisson of fear when they looked at the Atlantian Queen in this mood. Minos had always known deep down that he had married a dangerous woman – albeit a beautiful one – and it was at times like this that he was reminded why. Pasiphae's devotion to duty was unrivalled and her courage and strength unparalleled. With her fine political mind and immediate whip-sharp understanding of any situation that she was presented with Minos would not dream of holding the sort of high level meeting that he was to have today without his wife's input despite the obvious deficiency of her sex. He pitied the fool that would question the Queen's authority or her right to be present in this room at this time.

Right on cue Kephalon spoke up.

"Your Majesty," he objected. "We are having a strategy meeting to plan the course of this war. A woman – no matter how gifted – has no place here. Much as I respect Her Majesty's abilities I fear her understanding of battle tactics and warfare may be limited and her presence a distraction."

Minos felt rather than saw Pasiphae stiffen alongside him and knew that it was only years of experience at court that stopped her from exploding on the spot. As it was he feared that her temper would get the better of her and hurried to head that off.

"I sent for the Queen," he growled. "I believe that her opinion will be invaluable to me at this time."

"My Lord," Kephalon began again, "I am aware that Her Majesty is undoubtedly very capable but she _is_ only a woman after all."

He looked around the room seeking the support of the other councillors – most of whom were studiously studying the patterns on the ceiling or looking intently at something only they could see on the floor.

Minos resisted the sudden irrational urge to jump down from the dais and clout the idiot around the back of the head.

"You dare to question my judgement?" he asked in a terribly quiet voice. "Have you no respect?" This last question was roared.

Kephalon gaped at him, much in the manner of a fish that suddenly finds itself out of the water and on the riverbank.

Internally Pasiphae smiled at the Chief Minister's discomfort, although she was far too much of a politician to ever let it register on her face. Kephalon had been a thorn in her side for years now; pompous, puffed up with his own importance and dismissive of her simply because she was a woman. She enjoyed seeing him humbled before the entire council of ministers. His days of power were most definitely limited though – somehow she could not see Ariadne putting up with the fool once she became Queen. Much as she hated to admit it the girl was far too strong and far too clever to put up with advisors who would not treat her with the respect her position demanded.

Drawing her mind back to the present, Pasiphae watched her husband continuing to cow his Chief Minister into submission. Whatever else Minos was he was a good orator and a regal King. He was also a far finer politician than many people gave him credit for. Not quite in Pasiphae's league of course – but then who was? He knew how to dominate a situation though; how to use the full range of his voice to command and rule; that if someone bellowed at you, you bellowed back. Would Jason be able to command in that way? She had had little opportunity to hear him speak; had certainly never spoken to him directly. He _had_ raised his voice to Minos in the throne room when Heptarian had had him arrested – a brave but ultimately foolish act. She rather suspected though that that was because he did not really understand the social niceties or correct behaviour when one is dealing with royalty. There was time to correct that sort of behaviour though, she grimly reminded herself. He was still young after all; still finding his way in the world.

As to whether he would ever be able to command properly… well that remained to be seen. From what she had observed on the occasions when she had slipped out of the Palace to see him – following him at a distance to learn as much as she could about the young man who had grown from the baby she had lost – he had seemed to be generally fairly softly spoken with a tendency to slip into the background when his friends weren't there. That was deliberate, she felt. A practiced act to make himself as unremarkable and unnoticeable as possible. He would need to be broken of that; would need to learn to accept his place at the centre of attention. There was time for all that though once he was at her side. Pasiphae felt a little warm glow at the thought. Soon, she promised herself. As soon as she could safely do so she would bring his existence to Minos' attention and bring the boy to the Palace to live.

"What reports do we have of Anaxandros?" Minos asked of the room.

Pasiphae drew her thoughts away from her son and back to her husband once more. It was time for the game of war to begin in earnest.

* * *

Hercules peered around the room with a frown. Where was the dratted boy? Jason, he knew, was out on the balcony watching the world go by again, lost in a daydream. At least he didn't look unhappy or worried at the moment his stocky friend noted with relief. In fact he was watching the street with a gentle half-smile, eyes as distant as the moon. But that left Pythagoras unaccounted for, and unless he was hiding under a bed he was not in the house.

Over the last few days the young genius' strength had returned rapidly. He still tired fairly easily but on the whole had resumed his normal daily life – only taking the odd nap here and there as his stamina waned. He had even made a couple of trips to the market, although never unaccompanied and he had had to have a good long rest on his return.

Now though he was most definitely missing and Hercules was worried. It was unlike Pythagoras to go out without telling someone. Of course he might have told Jason where he was going, Hercules supposed. He headed towards the balcony intent on asking his brunette friend if he knew where the blonde was.

At the doorway to the balcony he paused and got a good long look at Jason. His brow cleared and he smiled. The lad looked better than he had in a long time; looked like the young man who had burst into their lives and shaken up their little home so spectacularly. Perhaps Jason had been right the other day – it _was_ time for them to stop treating him as though he was fragile and let him get back to normal completely.

Over the last few days the bruising that had covered the young man's body had faded to almost nothing and the stiffness that had come with it had almost gone. True he still winced occasionally when he stretched awkwardly and his ribs pulled but really that was only to be expected – fractured ribs took longer than a week to heal Hercules knew. His knee was gradually getting better too. Pythagoras had explained to Hercules that the knee joint was connected by nerves (Jason had rolled his eyes and muttered something about ligaments under his breath but neither of his friends had known what he was going on about) and that when Jason had fallen he had stretched some of those nerves almost to breaking point. The only real cure for that was rest, as both Pythagoras and the doctor had been keen to point out. As things were Jason had been able to completely do without the crutches since this morning, although his blonde friend still insisted that he put his feet up at every available opportunity. By each evening he was more than happy to comply, his knee having swollen slightly as he had walked on it as the day went on. Still it wouldn't be long now until he had fully healed – something that Hercules wasn't sure whether he should be grateful for or not. The city guards had come to the house yesterday to undertake the headcount for the defence of Atlantis. They had left having taken all three names but with a mark alongside both of the boys denoting the fact that neither lad was fit to take part yet and with the instruction that the authorities were to be informed once they were.

From his perch on the edge of the balcony (and Hercules shuddered to think just _how_ he was managing to balance there) Jason looked up at him with a bright smile.

"Everything alright?" the young man asked.

"Hmm," Hercules answered. "You don't know where Pythagoras has gone do you?"

Jason immediately frowned.

"He was working at the table the last time I looked." He looked at the position of the sun. "That might have been a while ago," he admitted. "I think I've lost track of time."

"Well he's not there now," Hercules answered. "He's not anywhere in the house."

Jason slid down from his seat and limped over to the strong man.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Of course I'm sure," Hercules responded indignantly. "I know he's skinny but I'm not going to completely miss him."

Jason held up his hands placatingly.

"I'm sure he'll be alright," he said. "I mean he's not exactly a child."

"I know," Hercules answered. "It's just…"

Before he could say anymore the door burst open and Pythagoras raced in, all flailing elbows and wide eyes. He was, his friends noticed, distinctly out of breath.

"Where in the name of the gods have you been?" Hercules groused.

"I… went to the… agora," Pythagoras panted. "I thought... there might be some… news… and there… was."

"Breathe," Hercules growled guiding Pythagoras towards a stool. "Whatever the news is it can wait until you have your breath back."

"Hercules I am fine," Pythagoras protested, still a little breathlessly.

Hercules glowered at the young genius and stood over him with his arms folded until Pythagoras had his breath back. Then he motioned the young man to continue with one meaty hand.

"I went to the agora to try to find out if there was any news," Pythagoras began, "and I overheard a conversation between two of the guards who were going past."

"And?" Hercules said.

"They didn't know I could hear them and I stayed as quiet as possible so I could listen. They said that Anaxandros' army arrived outside the city walls late last night and have set up camp as the day has gone on. They said that the city is encircled." Pythagoras took a deep breath. "We're completely cut off," he said softly.

Hercules nodded and looked between his two younger companions seriously. For a moment none of them spoke. Time itself seemed to stand still. In the distance a bell began to ring and was answered by a blare of horns. All three men looked towards the window.

"It's begun," Hercules said grimly.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Only half an hour to go until episode 2... yey! :-)
> 
> Please, please, pretty please review...

The first attack on the city came just before midnight in the area to the north of the Telapius Gate. The warning bell had sounded in the early afternoon to alert the citizens to the fact that an attack was imminent and the answering horn cries from the walls had done little to soothe the frazzled nerves of the populous. There had been the usual elaborate posturing to start with – the champions of the Amphigeneian army riding forwards to issue formal challenges to any Atlantian champions who would come forwards to face them. Not that anyone had answered the call. Minos was too wily and experienced to waste his best troops in a wholly meaningless contest so early on in the campaign. There would be time enough for the heroes of the two armies to face each other in single combat at a later date when it was more propitious and advantageous to the King of Atlantis to take the risk.

There were those in the city who thought that the King was afraid; that he was showing a distinct lack of strength by refusing to answer the challenges of the Amphigeneian champions. Those who said that since the sudden death of the Lord Heptarian more than two months ago Atlantis had no real champions left. It had not really helped that no-one in the city really knew what had happened to him. The proclamation from the Palace had simply stated that he had been a traitor and had been killed while betraying the throne. Many thought that Minos' illness had clouded his mind and judgement, although there were few who would say that openly. He had always been suspicious in nature; had regularly banished or executed those he suspected of betraying him – even his own son – usually with little justification or evidence. It seemed impossible to the general populous that Heptarian would have betrayed the King in any way not matter how generally unpopular he had been.

For all his arrogance and mistreatment of the ordinary citizens of Atlantis Heptarian had been a highly skilled and gifted warrior – as many now remembered. In the face of a besieging army his courage and skill would have been welcomed and many people privately wondered whether anyone would be capable of taking his place. No word came from the Palace, however, and the champions of Amphigeneia continued their posturing and taunting from beyond the range of bowshot outside the city walls. Atlantis prepared itself for the onslaught that was sure to follow sooner or later, surrounded as they were by an army that stretched for miles.

When the attack came it was sudden and brutal. Thousands of flaming arrows lit up the night's sky, falling in a deadly rain upon the heads of the defenders. The siege catapults would not be built for several days yet – were currently under construction at the back of the Amphigeneian encampment, fully in view of the warriors manning the walls but too far away for them to do anything about. It was a calculated move on the part of Anaxandros, designed to let the Atlantian populous know that the battle would only get worse. Here and there an arrow overshot its mark and fell into the deserted streets below to be stamped on and put out by anyone available. More than one, however, fell into a stack of straw – fodder for the numerous goats that the peasants kept for milk and meat, or used to stuff the mattresses of the poor – or among a stack of crates, fortunately not as tinder dry as usual due to the amount of rain that the season had brought. Where these arrows fell they caught light, burning brightly and rapidly. Then the occupants of the surrounding houses would spill out into the street, heedless of the dangers posed by the hail of falling arrows in their haste to put out the growing flames and to stop the city from burning.

After the first hail of arrows came the troops with their scaling ladders. The surviving defenders, who had spent the barrage huddled under raised shields, stood and attempted to push the ladders away from the wall with long poles, all the time praying to the gods for deliverance. Here and there a ladder crashed to the ground, taking with it any attackers unlucky enough to be on it at the time, sending them hurtling through the air to lie in a broken heap of bodies. The defenders poured great cauldrons of boiling water down onto the heads of the survivors and the attack began to falter. The screams of the dead and dying mixing with the bellows of the officers, the ululation of the war horns and the shouts of the troops to make a confusing cacophony of sound. Finally the Amphigeneians broke and ran, regrouping in their own encampment to prepare for the next wave of attack. The defenders cheered briefly and then hunkered down on the walls again as the deadly hail of arrows, their tips wrapped in pitch coated cloth and set alight, began to rain down upon them once more.

* * *

From the Palace on the hill Minos watched his city beginning to burn – the first blows being delivered in what was sure to be a long and bloody contest – and prayed to the gods for their aid. In another window his queen stared at the growing chaos and wondered where her son was in the middle of all of this. At least she could be fairly sure that Jason would not be out on the streets at the moment; would not have joined in the desperate fight for survival on the city walls. The injury he had sustained to his leg would keep him safe for the moment. His home was deep in the centre of the city so there was little danger at present from the besieging army or their flaming arrows and yet Pasiphae couldn't help but wonder how long that would last. Jason would, she was sure, join the battle as soon as he was physically able. Finally, unable to allow her mind to follow those dark paths anymore, Pasiphae turned away from the window and made her way deep inside her chambers to the secret chamber that none but her knew the existence of. Once inside she muttered a quick prayer to Hekate and began her preparations, binding and blessing bunches of herbs to burn as an offering and moulding a little figure of clay. Finally all was prepared. Now all she had to do was wait until her spies provided her with something of Anaxandros' – a lock of hair or a clipping of nails would do nicely – and then she would make Amphigeneia's King rue the day he had made war on Atlantis.

* * *

Deep in the heart of the city Hercules woke from an uneasy sleep. Much as he had tried to reassure the two boys that he was not worried about this most recent turn of events he remembered only too well the dark times that had plagued the city in the civil war; the bloodshed and the fear. Deep in his heart he dreaded a return to those times. For a while he lay there in the darkness staring at the ceiling and reliving the events of the day. The bell that had tolled in the early afternoon and the horn calls that had replied to it had simply been a warning that the city needed to make ready. He had been very quick to reassure the boys of that fact, knowing that neither one of them had any real experience of warfare. It was true that over the past few months they had all been involved in a variety of battles – quick skirmishes with bandits or city guards – but the sort of pitched battle that was involved in outright war was beyond the realms of experience of either one of them. It worried Hercules, knowing as he did that sooner or later both the boys would be required to take their part in the defence of the city; would have to stand on the wall and face a barrage of arrows followed up by a full on assault; or would have to face an opposing army in the streets of their city itself if the defence did not go according to plan and the Amphigeneians managed to break through. Neither one of Hercules' friends were trained soldiers, no matter what natural aptitude Jason showed in that respect.

Pythagoras was really too gentle to be any sort of warrior. He was logical, rational and frighteningly intelligent but was more likely to stab himself in the foot with a sword than to successfully see off an attack with it. To be truthful he was much better than he had been – didn't drop his weapons anywhere near as much as in the past and could usually be relied upon to actually remember to bring one these days – but he was not one of nature's soldiers. How would sweet sensitive Pythagoras fare having to defend himself and his city day in and day out? Hercules knew how seriously Pythagoras took the act of taking a life – with good reason as it happened – and could not help but be concerned that in the kill or be killed situation that would inevitably occur on the city walls Pythagoras would not cope as well as other young men his age.

Jason on the other hand had the potential to be a great warrior; to be a true hero if Hercules were being particularly honest with himself. But the lad was not quite there yet. In many ways he was still too naïve; still saw the world as a black and white place; had not yet learned that there were shades of grey. Although he was rapidly developing into a fine warrior he still lacked experience and had certainly never, to Hercules' certain knowledge, experienced the chaos of a pitched battle. Then there was the lad's worrying habit of attracting trouble wherever he went and his basic innate need to save every helpless person or creature he came across. Hercules shook his head in the darkness. That had the potential to cause Jason a great deal of grief and in the current situation would possibly be fatal. The young man also seemed to attract arrows. In the months he had been in the city he had already been shot twice.

The burly wrestler turned over in bed and gave his pillow a thump, willing sleep to come. He lay in the dark listening to the horn cries from the city wall. It was amazing how quickly you could get used to something, he thought. The horns had been sounding at regular intervals since early afternoon now. Eventually they would stop sounding them – once the authorities believed that all the citizens were sufficiently warned – only sounding the proper war cry when an attack occurred. Gradually though the strong man realised that the sound of the horns was different to what it had been this afternoon. It was a battle cry _not_ a warning. Hercules stiffened. So it really _had_ begun. He swallowed and pushed himself up from the bed, feeling guiltily glad that his house was in the centre of the city and not one of those that would inevitably face a barrage of missiles as the battles went on, and needing a stiff drink.

In the kitchen he paused, casting a quick glance towards the curtain that separated Pythagoras' room from the rest of the house, hoping that his two young friends were sleeping peacefully and wondering if he should just stick his head around the curtain to check. Something brushed against his leg, a feather light tickle of soft fur, and he jumped back with a startled, albeit half-whispered, oath. It was Isosceles. Hercules bent down and picked the cat up.

"You scared the life out of me," he rumbled.

Then he looked around. For the kitten to be up and on the prowl meant only one thing: that Jason was not in his bed. The strong man frowned deeply. Of all the nights for his young friend to take it into his head to go wandering this was not a good one. Especially since the lad was not fully healed yet. By this evening his knee had been swollen and sore again – evidence that he had been overdoing it during the day – and he had been packed off to bed to put his feet up far earlier than he would normally retire with a painkilling tonic and alternating cold and warm compresses to put on his knee to make him feel better. Jason hadn't really complained too much, especially since they had all simply gathered and carried on their conversation in Pythagoras' room; the mathematician stretched out comfortably on his own bed and Hercules on a stool between the two of them. As the older man's job had finally finished the night before he was free to spend the evening at home (the taverns being closed due to a strict curfew) and had eventually found himself nodding off on his stool listening to the bright chatter of his friends. By the time he had dragged himself off to bed the boys had been deeply engrossed in a game of Tilia.

Now though it seemed that Jason had decided to go walkabout. Hercules rather hoped he was still somewhere in the vicinity of the house because he really didn't relish looking for the young man in the streets of a city that was under attack. He worried that Jason would somehow end up being caught up in the fighting on the wall and, while he didn't usually worry too much about the boy's ability to hold his own in a fight, right now that injured leg would mean that he simply couldn't move as fluidly as usual.

With a sigh the big man reached for his sandals, fully prepared to go and find Jason and drag him home. Before he could pull them on a noise from the balcony alerted him and he crept out with a large metal dish in hand, ready to take on any intruder; half afraid it would be an enemy soldier. He breathed a heavy sigh of exasperated relief and put down the pan when he realised that what he had taken to be an intruder was in fact his missing housemate.

Jason was perched on the edge of the balcony, his dark curls blowing in the stiff breeze and his chin resting in his hand. Despite the coldness of the night air Hercules was somewhat exasperated to note that he was barefoot and clearly hadn't thought to bring either his cloak or a blanket with him. Without alerting the young man to his presence his friend dodged back into the house and grabbed a couple of blankets knowing that there was a chance neither one of them would be returning to bed particularly quickly but determined that they would both stay warm. As Hercules made his way back onto the roof Jason spoke, startling his older friend who had thought that the young man was unaware of his presence, lost in his own world.

"It started about an hour ago," he murmured, never turning around.

Hercules made his way over and looked in the same direction as his younger friend. In the distance hundreds of little pinpoints of light brightened the night's sky above the city wall. Hercules shuddered, knowing that every one of those pinpoints was an arrow and that that meant that men were fighting and dying just a couple of short miles from where he stood.

"They look almost like fireworks," Jason muttered moodily. "They'd be almost pretty if you didn't know what they really were."

He glanced across at his older companion and Hercules felt his breath catch in his throat at the expression on the young man's face. Jason looked older and more jaded than the big man had ever seen him. It didn't suit him Hercules decided, mentally trying to work out what he could do or say to lift his friend's spirits. Jason had had too many dark days in his friend's opinion over the last couple of months. It was too easy, given the lad's knack of hiding behind an easy-going smile, to write him off as a naïve and wide-eyed optimist – and Hercules was only too aware that there were many people who met Jason and did just that. Yet when you got to know him – _really_ know him mind you – when he finally let his defences down enough to let you in – there was a faint edge of darkness that clung to Jason's soul; a sadness that hovered about him at times when he was quiet and thought that no-one was looking. If it was the last thing he did Hercules was determined that one day he would find a way to fight that sadness away. For now though he would be content to wipe the world-weary and pensive expression off the young man's face.

"What's a firework?" he asked idly reaching one meaty hand out to gently rub the back of his friend's neck reassuringly.

"It's just something that entertains people back where I come from," Jason answered. "They're… well I'm not entirely sure what they really are… some sort of explosive I guess. You light them and fire them up into the sky and they burst with all sorts of pretty colours." He looked down at his hands. "It doesn't really matter," he said.

Hercules sighed and slid down to sit on the floor, patting the ground firmly beside himself and looking up at his friend with a stern expression. After a moment or two Jason slipped down from his perch and sank down beside his friend, his view of the fire arrows inhibited by the wooden partition. Hercules casually stretched out an arm and rested it behind his companion's back. He smiled softly as he felt some of the tension seep out of Jason's shoulders. The young man might not be as openly tactile as Pythagoras but over the last two months he had come to appreciate the benefits of a good hug.

For a while they sat in comfortable silence, each lost in his own thoughts. After a short time Hercules stirred and reached for the two blankets, wrapping one about himself and offering the other to his friend who took it with a roll of his eyes and wrapped himself in it.

"What are you doing out here anyway?" Hercules rumbled.

"Couldn't sleep," Jason admitted with a grimace.

He had learned in recent weeks to try to keep any episodes of insomnia that he had to himself, knowing how much it worried both his friends. The truth be told his sleepless nights were few and far between now and most of the time he felt better rested than he had in a very long time. That was largely thanks to Pythagoras' gentle insistence that he should relax before trying to sleep and should get into better habits. Since his insomnia had largely been dealt with he saw no need to worry his friends any more than they already were.

Hercules glowered slightly. He thought they had dealt with this; thought that they had extracted a promise from Jason to come to one of them if he couldn't sleep and needed to talk.

"You should have woken me," he groused.

"Nah," Jason said with a half grin, "you need all the beauty sleep you can get."

He quickly ducked Hercules' attempt to clip him around the ear.

"I promise I really was fine," Jason went on. "I just needed some time to think and I've always liked looking at the stars." He hesitated for a moment and then looked seriously at Hercules. "What's it like?" he asked.

"What's what like?" Hercules responded gently.

"On the walls tonight," Jason answered. "What must it be like for them?"

"Chaos," Hercules rumbled quietly. "It's messy and bloody and confusing and completely and utterly terrifying."

"You've been there then?"

"Once," the burly wrestler answered shortly. "A long time ago – during the civil war."

Jason frowned.

"That was between King Minos and King Aeson?" Jason asked uncertainly.

Hercules glanced at him, startled. At times he was truly astounded by just how little Jason knew of what probably amounted to his own family history. It made sense in a sad way though – the boy had been just too young when he had essentially been abandoned to have any real memories of his own and would have had no-one to tell him the stories of his past and his forebears.

"Pythagoras was telling you about the civil war the other day," he murmured.

"Yes," Jason said. He hesitated. "What was it like?" he asked.

"Like any war… messy. Lots of good men died on both sides. Why do you want to know?"

Jason bit his lip.

"I was thinking about what Pythagoras told me and I worked out that it must have been around then that my father took me away from Atlantis. I was about a year and a half old when he took me to where I grew up… and I suppose I wondered if maybe the war was why we left."

Hercules sighed. While he knew Jason's father must have had his reasons for leaving the boy like he did he couldn't help but think that it was cruel to have left him with so little idea of who he was; to have left him with a lifetime of questions.

"It might have been," he said, knowing full well that if Jason's father really was the former king then it most certainly was the reason. "Lots of people left the city then. No loving parent would want their child in danger in a war torn city."

Jason smiled at the thought. Then he yawned.

Hercules grinned at him knowingly.

"Ready to go back to bed now?" he asked.

With heavy-lidded eyes the young man nodded and pushed himself back to his feet, limping heavily towards the bedroom where Pythagoras slept undisturbed. At the doorway he turned and bid his older companion a good night before letting himself back in through the curtain, drawing it behind himself to shut out the rest of the world.

* * *

Dawn broke over the city and the weary guardians heaved a sigh of relief. They had endured the first night of bombardment, fighting off two more waves of attack in the darkness. They huddled now in exhausted groups, the cold of the early morning seeping into their weary bones. Soon a new wave of defenders would come to relieve them; to take their places in preparation for the next attack. At the moment though the besiegers were as tired and cold as they were and another attack seemed unlikely.

As the cold grey light grew, pale and wan on the winter's morning, the victims of the night's battles were revealed, sprawled where they had fallen. It seemed impossible to think that just yesterday these had been living, breathing men with hopes and dreams; that each one of them was somebody's husband, brother or son. Every so often one of the bodies had fallen from the city wall to land in the street below or on the roof of one of the surrounding houses. Men were dispatched to retrieve these inconveniently located bodies with long hooks and ropes; an unpleasant but essential task. If the fallen were left where they were then the chances of pestilence spreading increased massively and, as the city had only recently endured an epidemic, no-one wished to see that happen.

Then began the grim task of stripping the bodies of their weapons and any usable equipment – something that no-one relished but was prudent – and identifying them for the corpse buriers, so that they might at least go into the afterlife with their own names intact. In the early morning light a soldier wept for a fallen comrade – his younger brother – but would allow no-one else to remove the young man's armour, bending to kiss his brother's hair as he carefully undid the lacings and gently stripped the breastplate away. The distant rumble of a cart indicated that the burial wagon would arrive all too soon to remove the victims of the night. Somewhere a dog barked, the sound loud and jarring in the still air, and tendrils of smoke wreathed up into the air from a still smouldering pile of straw.

Gradually, as the light grew, the people of Atlantis began to creep back out onto the streets of their city. Until the horns warned of the next attack life would have to go on as normal, although everyone was only too aware that there would be empty places in many homes this morning and that there would only be more to come in the coming days. Every family who had had men manning the walls overnight prayed to the gods that the day would bring them safely home.

As the day began the market traders in the agora began to lay out their wares as household servants made their way through the streets looking to purchase the day's supplies for their masters. The usual hustle and bustle of life in Atlantis began once more; the hushed voices raising to their normal levels and mixing with the bleating goats, clucking chickens, barking dogs, rumbling carts and other sounds that made up the general hubbub of the city.

From a side street Talos emerged, holding tightly onto his daughter's hand as he walked across the agora, heading for his workshops. Part of him questioned his own wisdom at bringing Castianiera back to a city that was now under siege, which could potentially be attacked and overrun at any time, but really there had been no choice. He had taken the girl into the countryside to escape the ravages of the recent pestilence and could have remained there but the advance of Anaxandros' army had necessitated their return. Whilst Atlantis would undoubtedly be dangerous at least the walls offered protection and that was far more than they would have had outside. In fact it was said that the city had never fallen – and never would as long as there were stout-hearted men to defend it. Talos was not sure about that but he was sure that it was infinitely safer than anywhere in the surrounding area, given the stories that the other fleeing refugees had told of the Amphigeneian atrocities. Such stories were likely to be exaggerated of course but would hold at least a kernel of truth.

As the young father crossed the agora he was blissfully unaware of hard eyes following him. The man who stepped from the shadows smiled cruelly as he watched father and daughter moving through the marketplace. The girl was a pretty child and that golden hair was an extra bonus. He had seen them enter the city with their belongings in the company of other refugees from the countryside. With so many extra people in the city, a few little children would not be missed here and there and would make a handsome profit… and if the children belonged to the refugees so much the better. After all they would hardly have anyone to help them; would hardly know who to turn to. With the city under siege the authorities would have far more important issues to deal with and would be unlikely to waste time in pursuing the matter. There were always ways and means of smuggling people into and out of a city even in the middle of a siege and always men on both sides who could be bribed to turn a blind eye. With so much turmoil in the city the chances for profit for the man's gang seemed assured. He smiled again. Tonight the girl would belong to them.

* * *

The first attack of the day came shortly after midday, when many of the Atlantian populous were sitting down to eat. As the horns sounded their discordant warning of the battle to come, those citizens who were on the streets scuttled for safety in the nearest building, each praying that the gods would protect and spare their city.

On the walls many of the defenders got their first look at the Amphigeneian front line. It seemed to stretch for miles in every direction, a solid wall of men in their green cloaks and leather armour. Then the noise started. At an unspoken command the Amphigeneians began to beat the backs of their shields with the hilts of their swords or butts of their spears rhythmically, crying out every time they did. The noise was terrifying for those not trained in the art of warfare. Knowing an attack was imminent now the Atlantian officers moved about the walls, checking weapons here and trying to bolster flagging spirits there with a friendly clap on the back or a few hurried words.

The Amphigeneian army went silent. From somewhere deep in their ranks a rumbling started and a path was cleared. A strange contraption came rumbling through. This was a tortoise – a wheeled device that moved as slowly as its name; a strange, elongated pyramid created from a framework of wood covered in raw hides, dampened to prevent them catching fire if the soldiers manning the walls fired fire arrows at it. At its heart, slung from ropes attached to the upper frame, was a giant battering ram. This was Aries, the famous war machine of the Amphigeneian army; a giant metal ram's head attached to a massive tree trunk bound with hoops of bronze. It had been forged in the day of Anaxandros' great-grandfather and there were those who said it was a gift from Hermes himself. Carried with great reverence to the site of any Amphigeneian siege, it was mounted on a locally felled tree trunk and housed in the hastily constructed carriage. Now it trundled forwards towards the Telapius Gate, while the archers began to rain arrows down upon the city walls and the infantry began their march forwards with their scaling ladders once again.

Like a great wave the Amphigeneians dashed themselves against the walls of the city, coming time and time again to be repelled by the Atlantian soldiers. Far below the city wall Aries beat itself against the Telapius Gate, the soldiers manning it probing for a weakness in the great door. The archers on the city walls shot fire arrows down at it until finally the drying hides began to smoulder and the attackers were forced to withdraw, taking the ram with them for fear if it falling into enemy hands. As the attack faltered and began to break the Amphigeneian archers picked up their own fire arrows once more, firing repeatedly at the city to give their troops time to withdraw. At a command they ceased, the sudden stillness and silence shocking after the brutality and noise of the last hour or so.

A horn blast let the citizens know that for now the attack was over. The city endured.

* * *

From the balcony of their home Jason found his eyes almost inexorably drawn towards the wreathing smoke hanging like a pall over the city walls. He shouldn't really be out here he thought somewhat moodily. It wasn't doing any good and was only serving to darken his mood. He had been having a bad day ever since he had woken up this morning and had begun to take it out on his friends; snapping when he didn't really mean to; becoming more and more unpleasant to be around as the day went on.

After his chat with Hercules on the balcony last night he had returned to bed and had fallen into an uneasy sleep; plagued by strange dreams. In some ways they had reminded him of the dreams of his childhood; strange fleeting images that he struggled to cling onto in the waking world. As a child the only constant of these dreams had been the strange city on the hill bathed in bright sunlight; a city that he now knew to be Atlantis. Even now he wasn't quite sure how the place had managed to intrude into his dreams. Surely he had been too young when he left here to remember it?

Last night's dreams had been the strangest he had had for a long time though. Not nightmares per se – certainly not as bad as some that he had had over the years – but half-remembered images; visions of people he did not recognise but felt familiar – a tall, scar-faced man in a green cloak who strode through the Temple; himself and Hercules fighting back-to-back against an impossible seeming number of soldiers; little Castianiera sobbing in a small dark room. Jason shook himself. It was nothing more than a dream he sternly reminded himself. He really shouldn't be letting it disturb him this much.

This morning he had woken up feeling as though he hadn't actually been to bed – feeling as though his head was stuffed with cotton wool. He'd been snappy all day too, inexplicably on edge, and had retreated out here shortly after the war horns had been sounded, feeling Hercules' disapproving gaze on him as he went. Hercules thought that he was fixating on the siege too much Jason knew, but that wasn't really the problem. Yes there was a war going on – a war that sooner or later he was likely to have to participate in – but more than that he had a bad feeling; a feeling of impending doom that he could no more explain than he could dismiss. There was something unpleasant heading their way.

The young man shook himself again. This was ridiculous. He hadn't felt this anxious and out of sorts in nearly two months now – not since they had all returned home from Meriones' house. No wonder his friends had been casting worried looks in his direction all morning. The problem was that Jason couldn't seem to get past the hollow, nervous feeling that was eating away at him right now. The walls were beginning to close in again, which was partly why he had wandered out onto the balcony in the first place; needing to feel the fresh, cold winter air on his face.

The sound of a softly clearing throat made him jump. Pythagoras stood in the doorway to the balcony, his blue eyes deeply concerned. Jason attempted to smile, although he wasn't completely convinced that it hadn't come out as a grimace. Pythagoras frowned.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Yeah," Jason responded. "I'm just a bit out of sorts today… sorry."

Pythagoras hesitated.

"It has been a while since you have had a day this bad," he murmured.

Jason sighed.

"I know," he admitted. "The walls have been closing in a bit today. I just want to shut out the rest of the world right now."

"As long as you do not shut us out along with it," Pythagoras said with a raised eyebrow.

"I don't mean to," Jason answered. He looked back around the mathematician towards the welcoming warmth of the kitchen. "I suppose we ought to go back inside before Hercules comes looking for us."

"I don't think he would be happy at either one of us being out here for too long," the young genius agreed. He broke off with a sudden cough.

Jason looked at him worriedly, his anxiety levels growing even more. The thought that Pythagoras might become ill again ate away at him.

Pythagoras spotted the growing concern in his friend and sought to reassure Jason as soon as his coughing fit passed.

"I am fine," he murmured. "It is simply the final lingering effects of that blasted fever. I do not feel unwell in any way." He took in the worried eyes and unhappy stance, Jason's arms hugging himself slightly in his own anxiety. "Perhaps it would be as well if we returned indoors though."

As the two young men re-entered the house Hercules looked up from his cup of wine and watched them coming across the room, taking in the anxiety that seemed to flow off Jason in waves as he limped across the floor. The burly man frowned. The boy was clearly having a bad day – a dark day – and needed pulling back before he spiralled too far. Hercules exchanged a significant look with Pythagoras, communicating his worry with his eyes. The mathematician smiled slightly and nodded, moving towards the shelves that contained his herbs. Hercules stood up and stepped forwards to intercept Jason, pulling the startled young man into a sudden firm hug. For a moment he thought that Jason might actually resist but then the brunette sighed and relaxed into his embrace.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I don't really know what gets into me." He slipped his arms around his bulkier friend and hugged back.

Hercules smiled softly.

"It's not a problem," he rumbled, "but if you're having a bad day just let either him or me know. All we want to do is help."

"I know," Jason said as Hercules pulled back and started to direct him towards the table, one burly arm still wrapped firmly around the young man's shoulders. "Sometimes it just creeps up on me. I mean I thought I was ok now… I haven't had a bad day in weeks and I thought things had finally got better…"

"They have got better," Pythagoras said coming around the table with a steaming cup in his hands, "but it will take time."

"I know," Jason admitted. "I didn't sleep well last night and I suppose it's got me a bit on edge."

Hercules frowned.

"I thought you were going straight to bed after we talked," he growled.

"I did," Jason answered, "and I did get back to sleep… It's just that I had some odd dreams and it sort of disturbed me… I can't explain really… I just woke up with this strange feeling… like something bad is coming our way… something else bad that is."

"You had nightmares?" Pythagoras asked.

"Not exactly," Jason admitted slowly. "They were just… odd. Weird images. It was just a feeling more than anything… I don't really know how to describe it."

He wrapped his hands around the warm cup that Pythagoras had presented him with, suddenly very much aware of how cold the day was and how chilled he had become out on the balcony. He smiled softly as the unmistakable smell of chamomile hit his nostrils.

"Thanks," he murmured.

"It is really not a problem," Pythagoras answered, knowing just how much a chamomile infusion helped to calm his friend's anxiety. "You have always seemed to enjoy it."

"I do," Jason admitted.

He relaxed into Hercules' one-armed embrace for a few minutes allowing both the soothing qualities of the chamomile tea and the all-encompassing warmth of the love of his two friends to warm and calm him both inside and out. Presently he shook himself and put the now empty cup down, easing his way out from under the big wrestler's arm. Looking about himself he spotted a set of dice on the end of the table and reached out to pick them up with a grin.

"Anyone like a game?" he asked.

Hercules grinned back.

"Prepare to lose your shirt," he said.

* * *

Pasiphae paused in the doorway of Minos' study. He looked tired, she thought almost clinically. It was probably only natural but with his less than robust nature it was one more thing for the Queen to keep an eye on. As things stood, with Anaxandros and his army on their doorstep, the last thing that the city needed was for their King to falter at this crucial stage because of his health.

"You need rest, My Lord," she said firmly, stepping gracefully into the room.

Minos looked up from the report he was studying and turned to face her with a faint smile.

"I did not sleep well last night," he acknowledged. "I could not find rest while the city was under attack."

"A siege of this nature can go on for some time," Pasiphae counselled. "You must conserve your strength. You will do no-one any good if you burn yourself out too early."

Minos sighed.

"I do not think that sleep will come easily to me as long as Anaxandros threatens us," he admitted.

"Then allow me to send for the physician," Pasiphae said smoothly, placing one delicate hand on her husband's shoulder. "He will be able to give you something to ease your rest."

"Perhaps," the King agreed, "but not yet. For now there is simply too much for me to attend to." He looked at his wife fondly and covered her had with his own. "Simply knowing you are here gives me strength however," he added.

Pasiphae smiled.

"I am glad," she answered softly. "We must be strong for the sake of Atlantis."

"You are right as usual," Minos said with a smile. "Where is Ariadne?"

"Your daughter is at prayer in the Temple," the Queen answered.

"She is a good and faithful daughter," Minos murmured, "and will be a good queen. She is a true servant of Poseidon. I am only sorry that I was unable to give her what her heart most desired."

Pasiphae frowned.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

Minos sighed again.

"More than two months ago now I became aware that the young man who had saved Ariadne's life from Heptarian's plot had developed… feelings for her. I spoke to him and told him that it could never be of course… but when I was speaking to Ariadne I became aware that perhaps the boy was not alone in his feelings and that in fact they were reciprocated by her… I was forced to bar her from ever seeing the boy again… It was hard to disappoint Ariadne in that way and part of me wished that it could be otherwise. The boy is brave and noble and has proved that he is utterly loyal to my daughter… but he is not of royal blood; is no more than a peasant. It can never be between them."

Pasiphae's mind was racing. She had not known of this incident and certainly had not known that Minos was in any way aware of the fact that Ariadne was no longer a little girl, but it might be used to her advantage. Her husband had admitted that Jason was brave, noble and loyal and that might work in her favour when he finally learned of her son's identity – might be used to help her reconcile him towards Jason. If he already believed that the boy had good qualities and would not challenge him because of his innate loyalty then so much the better.

"I am sure you acted in Ariadne's best interests, My Lord," she said smoothly.

A knock at the door interrupted their conversation.

"Come," Minos barked.

It was Kephalon who came through the door, looking sufficiently chastened when his eyes glanced over the Queen to make Pasiphae smile inwardly.

"Your Majesty," he began, "we have received an envoy from King Anaxandros."

"And?" Minos asked impatiently.

"King Anaxandros is claiming that a clause exists in the peace treaty signed between his father, King Hagnon, and King Aeson's father, King Cretheus."

Minos privately felt that there were altogether too many kings in that last sentence – not least because as a general rule he preferred to be the only king in any room.

"What clause?" he asked sharply.

"The clause states that if either of the Kings or their son's died without an heir the throne of that kingdom would pass to whomsoever sat on the throne of the other kingdom at that time," Kephalon said, shaking slightly. "Put simply, because King Aeson disappeared and apparently died and there was no heir to the throne – due to the death of the Prince – the throne should have reverted to King Anaxandros."

"That is the most ridiculous thing I have heard in a long time," Pasiphae burst out. "If Anaxandros truly believed that he had a claim to the throne he would have staked it at the time and not waited more than twenty years."

"King Anaxandros is claiming that he was waiting to make sure that the Prince truly was dead and was not going to return to claim his throne. He says that as it is now clear that there is no legitimate claimant for the throne of Atlantis he is forced to step in and claim the city for himself."

"It is pure nonsense," Pasiphae asserted. "He knows that he is breaking a sacred oath and is simply trying to justify himself with this ridiculous story."

"That's as may be, My Lady," Kephalon said, "but as long as he is claiming that such a clause exists there will be some who will believe him. Atlantis does after all have enemies. King Anaxandros has stated that he will give His Majesty two days from dawn tomorrow to consider his response. Then, if the true heir to the throne cannot be produced, or if Your Majesty fails to surrender, the attack will begin again."

"And until dawn tomorrow?" Minos asked coolly, already knowing the answer.

"Until the truce comes into effect at dawn the attack will continue," Kephalon said. "I think King Anaxandros is hoping that you will capitulate immediately."

"Then he does not know us very well," Pasiphae hissed.

Minos looked at her with a half-smile. Then he turned back to Kephalon, his face serious once more.

"You may leave us," he instructed.

As Kephalon filed out he turned back to Pasiphae with a serious expression.

"It would seem, my love, that your wish to find your son is to be granted," he murmured. "If the boy is indeed in the city then he must be found quickly. Anaxandros has, after all, only given us two days."

"You cannot believe that Anaxandros will keep his word," Pasiphae scoffed. "If we do produce the boy he will say it is a trick."

"I know," Minos admitted, "but it will remove all trace of legitimacy from his claim and may encourage our allies to come to our aid. We are isolated, Pasiphae. Cut off. And at the moment we are playing for time. If ever there was a good time for your son to reappear it is now."

* * *

Pythagoras looked up from the pot of stew he was stirring as Hercules cursed and smiled to himself. His two friends were deeply engrossed in a game of dice, although which one was actually winning was somewhat of a moot point as Isosceles had decided to join in and was currently chasing one of the dice across the table – which was what had caused Hercules to curse. Jason, on the other hand, was chuckling openly both at the antics of the kitten and at Hercules' attempts to reclaim his dice. After his bad start to the day it was nice to see him so relaxed and happy Pythagoras decided.

"Does one of you want to set the table?" he called across from the fire pit.

Hercules scrambled to comply, all interest in kittens and dice lost in favour of food. Jason looked across at Pythagoras and grinned fondly, rolling his eyes comically before setting about clearing the table of both cat and dice so that his bulky friend had somewhere to set the dishes down.

Somewhere in the distance the curfew bell rang. Hercules smiled as he came back to the table.

"Tell me," he asked, "do you know the story of Prometheus and how he stole fire from the gods?"

"Not really," Jason admitted. "I think I missed that one in school."

"Well it goes like this," Hercules began.

As he started to tell the tale, Pythagoras sat back in his seat to listen. Hercules was, he had to admit, one of the best storytellers he had ever heard… as long as he steered clear of the tales of his own heroism – although even those could be amusing.

Dinner went remarkably quickly and by the time they were lingering over their wine cups, the empty plates still strewn on the table, the big man had moved on to the story of Deucalion and Pyrrha. Pythagoras was just about to join in and correct what he felt were one or two inaccuracies in his friend's tale when a sudden harsh pounding at the door drove all three of them to their feet, instantly on edge.

As the young mathematician was nearest to the door he hurried to open it.

Talos, the young merchant whose daughter had befriended Jason, almost fell through it, a wound upon his scalp trickling red blood down his face. Pythagoras caught him and took in the shocked face of the man who had become a friend to all of them with growing horror. The last any of them had heard Talos had taken Cassie into the countryside to escape the epidemic that had wracked the city, although it would be understandable if he had brought her back now given the Amphigeneian advance. But if that was so then where was she?

"Help me," Talos begged.

"What has happened?" Pythagoras asked. "Where is Cassie?"

Talos clutched at him desperately.

"They've taken her!" he gasped. "They've taken my daughter."


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Thank you once again for taking the time and trouble to leave the lovely reviews. This chapter has taken a lot longer than originally anticipated - at least in part because I got sidetracked by the oneshot I published last week!
> 
> Anyway it's here now. Please don't forget to let me know if you like it... that is if you do like it!

"Who's taken her?" Hercules demanded, coming around the table as Talos continued to clutch at Pythagoras helplessly.

"I… I don't…" Talos' eyes were blank and hazy, his face confused. He took one lurching step towards the bulky wrestler before his eyes rolled back in his head and he pitched forwards, hitting the ground with a sickening thud.

Pythagoras was by his side in an instant, rolling the young father over with gentle but firm hands; checking for fever and feeling for a pulse automatically.

"What's wrong with him?" Hercules demanded as Jason made his own way around the table to the little group.

"Shock I believe," Pythagoras answered absently, continuing to check Talos over for injuries. "The head injury does not seem particularly bad – it is not deep nor particularly nasty – and I can find no fever and no other injuries." He looked up at his older friend. "I would very much like to get him onto a bed though."

Hercules grunted and picked Talos up from the floor, slinging the unconscious man's arm around his shoulders and starting to drag him across the room. Jason came up on the other side and made to take Talos' other arm. Hercules stopped and glared at his young friend.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" he demanded.

"Helping you to move him," Jason answered with some confusion.

"Oh no you don't," Hercules grunted. "You're not lifting anything heavy until those ribs have fully healed. I'm not having you reinjuring yourself now."

"Hercules I'm fine," Jason protested.

"Just go and sit yourself back down," Hercules insisted. "I can manage without any help."

Jason rolled his eyes in annoyance. Sometimes he felt that Hercules was far more overprotective than he needed to be. After all Jason hadn't exactly been offering to carry Talos on his own – just to help Hercules balance the man properly – and he reckoned he could manage that without pulling on his ribs too much. He had absolutely no intention of sitting back down either – not if Cassie's life was at stake. So he followed behind his two friends towards Hercules' room, willing himself not to limp too badly – he had no intention of getting into an argument with either Hercules or Pythagoras because they believed he should be putting his feet up again, and no intention of telling either one of them that his knee was aching more than earlier and felt stiff.

Hercules deposited Talos on his own bed, puffing slightly from the effort; the man was certainly heavier than either Pythagoras or Jason, although Hercules was more than strong enough to cope. Pythagoras immediately swooped in to check the young father over for injuries he might have missed earlier.

"I need water and a cloth," he muttered to himself. "A cup of water for when he comes around will not go amiss either."

Jason's eyes narrowed thoughtfully and he turned to make his way back out of Hercules' room to fetch the items Pythagoras required only to find himself restrained by a very firm and meaty hand.

"I thought I told you to sit down," Hercules groused with one eyebrow raised.

"I don't need to sit down," Jason argued, beginning to get more than a little cross at Hercules' constant nagging. "I've been sitting down for most of the day."

Hercules growled in frustration. The young man in front of him had turned stubbornness into an art form and while his older friend was well aware that it had got them all through some truly dangerous situations in the past, it often impacted badly upon Jason's wellbeing. Part of him understood of course; knew that a lot of his friend's wilful and wild independence and stubbornness sprang from a childhood where he had generally had no-one to rely on but himself; knew that the lad had had very little to call his own (even if he never openly told them as much) and that he therefore valued what he did have highly – and that his own independence was fairly high on the list. It didn't make protecting Jason any easier though – particularly when the thing he most needed to be protected from was himself.

Still challenging Jason was perhaps not the best idea, Hercules realised. Trying to force the young man to sit down would only result in him digging his heels in and getting that mulish expression on his face that told anyone in the vicinity that he was not going to back down no matter what. Over the last year his two friends had learned that when Jason got into that frame of mind alternative tactics needed to be deployed – and often the best they could hope for was to try to help him and thereby limit the damage. Know when to pick your battles Hercules reminded himself, recalling the advice his father had drummed into him so many years ago. This was certainly not something that was worth fighting over – not when he could back away now and attack from another angle.

Without another word the burly wrestler simply pushed past his younger friend and started to collect the things that Pythagoras needed, banging about the kitchen noisily. Pythagoras looked up from where he was still examining Talos with a sigh, hoping that Hercules was not about to break something important in his frustration; knowing that in this case his old friend's anger was borne of worry. Then he glanced across at Jason and sighed again. His dark haired friend was leaning against a table with his arms folded and the stubborn, grumpy expression he sometimes got gracing his features, his brows drawn together in a frown. Usually he would half sit on the edge of the table if they were talking in Hercules' room but the big man's nagging for him to sit down had drawn out the contrary side of Jason and now there was no way he was going to give in – even if sitting would clearly be more comfortable for him Pythagoras clinically noted, noticing the way that Jason had shifted most of his weight onto his good leg and spotting the badly concealed wince as he moved his right knee.

As usual Pythagoras would have to be the voice of reason; would have to play the peacemaker in their house. If he were being completely honest the mathematician would have to admit that it was not all that often that he was called upon to mediate between his two friends but he couldn't help but wish that on this occasion their timing had been better – that they had chosen a time when a friend was not potentially in danger. Of course the idea of anyone being threatened always brought Jason's protective nature to the fore and Hercules really should have realised that there was no way their sometimes strange friend was likely to back down under the circumstances, Pythagoras thought. He sighed again.

With one final clatter of pottery Hercules re-entered the room, a bowl and cloth in one hand and a cup in the other. He thrust both at Pythagoras semi-aggressively but had the good grace to look guilty when the young genius levelled a steady look at him, one eyebrow coolly raised.

"Thank you," Pythagoras said softly, eliciting an even more guilty look from the big man.

Hercules nodded awkwardly and retreated to the other side of the room, biting down hard on his own tongue to stop himself from saying something when he saw Jason shift uncomfortably, trying to keep the weight off his knee.

With gentle dextrous hands Pythagoras began to bathe away the blood from the wound on Talos' scalp, cleaning the trickle that had made its way down the side of the young merchant's face. The wound itself had already stopped bleeding; had already begun to close. It was a surface wound – probably the result of a swift blow designed to briefly incapacitate the man, Pythagoras decided – and would require no intervention on his part to heal well with no visible scar. As he mopped away the blood, Talos began to stir – moaning faintly with his head rolling from side to side as his eyes slowly began to flutter open. He blinked up at Pythagoras with wide blue eyes, confusion written on his face.

"Gently," the mathematician murmured. "You fainted. Give yourself some time to recover."

Talos, however, sat bolt upright in panic, swaying slightly where he sat.

"My daughter," he exclaimed clutching at Pythagoras once more. "Cassie…."

He moaned again, bringing one trembling hand to his forehead.

"Steady," Pythagoras said, placing a supportive arm around the man's shoulders. "Move slowly and you will find it easier."

"There's no time," Talos said desperately, his eyes roaming the room. "My daughter was taken. I have to find her."

"Who has taken her?" Jason asked intensely.

Pythagoras was pleased to notice that while none of them had been watching him Jason had half sat back on the table as he usually did, left foot balancing him on the floor while the right hung freely – thereby taking the weight off his bad leg.

"I don't know," Talos said, rubbing his forehead. "They came out of nowhere. I didn't see their faces properly."

"Start at the beginning," Pythagoras suggested. "Tell us everything."

"We returned to the city several days ago," Talos began. "I knew it was risky given the recent plague but I didn't feel I had much choice. The Amphigeneians were committing atrocities... the stories that some of the refugees had to tell… they torture their victims – rape the women – before they kill everyone… every man, woman and child. Those that survived did so because they ran and they hid… but the things they had seen…" he drew in a deep shuddering breath. "It seemed the lesser evil to bring Cassie back here. I knew that the Amphigeneians would come sooner or later but at least in Atlantis we had walls and people to protect us… soldiers." He fell silent.

"What happened?" Jason asked.

"Early this morning… after the horns had sounded the all clear… I went to inspect my workshop. Many of the seamstresses who work for me live in the quarters behind the workshop and I wanted to see for myself that they were alright… that they had everything they needed to see them through the siege," Talos paused again. "When my wife died I didn't have the first clue of how to look after a baby," he admitted. "The wonderful ladies from the workshop helped me… showed me how to do everything to look after Cassie… watched her for me so that I could get some sleep when she kept me up all night. They are less like employees and more like friends – like members of my family – and I had to know that they were safe. While we were there there was another attack on the walls. It was almost dark by the time the horns declared it safe to travel and the curfew bell was about to toll. I wanted to get Cassie home for the night – we have a widow and her daughter from a village some twenty leagues from here staying with us and it hardly seemed fair to abandon them – they are traumatised enough as it is and terrified whenever an alarm sounds. As we passed an alleyway at the edge of the agora four men jumped out and grabbed us both. I tried to fight… I really did… but they hit me over the head and they took Cassie." Talos clutched at Pythagoras again in his desperation, his breath coming in shorter and shorter gasps.

"Breathe," the young genius instructed, rubbing firmly between the merchant's shoulder blades.

"What can you tell us about these men?" Hercules rumbled, his broad face dark and dangerous.

"I don't know," Talos almost wailed. "It was dark."

"Calm down," Pythagoras murmured, still gently rubbing the other man's back. "Think about it carefully. Anything you can remember might help to understand why they have taken Cassie… and may help to find her."

Talos swallowed hard and drew in a deep shuddering breath.

"They were taking to one another as they ran away," he said. "One of them used the word doúlos."

"Slavers!" Hercules hissed.

"Slavers?" Jason asked, looking at Pythagoras.

"They used the word 'doúlos'," Pythagoras answered as though that explained everything. On seeing his friend's confused look he went on in a patient tone. "It means slave."

"And you think that slavers took Cassie?" Jason asked incredulously. Of all the things he had experienced since arriving in Atlantis somehow slavery had never been something that he had come face to face with – and had never expected to. It still seemed so alien a concept to him – so far outside the realms of possibility or of his experience – that he somehow could not quite grasp it.

"Of course," Hercules rumbled.

"But what would they want with her?" Jason asked in confusion.

"The depth of your ignorance never fails to astound me," Hercules groused. "Cassie is a pretty little girl. A pretty little _blonde_ girl. There are places where the colour of her hair alone would add money to her asking price. She will probably be sold to be trained as a household slave… or there are always men that want children for…" he broke off as Pythagoras cleared his throat meaningfully, looking from the distraught Talos to Jason and then back to Hercules, his eyes telling the big man that he really shouldn't go any further. "Yes… well… there are other things they might want her for," Hercules finished lamely.

Jason's hands gripped the edge of the table he was leaning against so hard that his knuckles turned white. He had a horrible feeling that he knew exactly what Hercules had been about to say and it turned his stomach – particularly given his own history.

"Are you alright?" Pythagoras asked gently, looking seriously at Jason.

"Yeah," Jason nodded, swallowing the bile that had risen unbidden in his throat. "Can you tell us anything else about these men?" he asked Talos.

"The leader had rotten teeth and a scar that ran from his right temple to his jaw," Talos said. "But anything else… I just don't know."

"Did you see which way they took Cassie?" Pythagoras piped up.

Talos swallowed hard.

"No," he admitted. "I was face down on the floor at the time. I only heard their voices. They were laughing." He shuddered, appearing to be on the verge of tears. "I think they wrapped her in a blanket and I could hear her screaming… Oh Gods I can still hear her scream…" he broke off, finally overcome.

"Well we're not going to find out anything by sitting here," Hercules declared picking up his sword. "If you're feeling up to it we'll go and have a look at the spot that you were attacked and see if we can't work out where these animals have taken your daughter… then I'll go and see if I can't round up Gelo and Kerkyon and maybe a few more of the boys."

Talos nodded and started to push himself to his feet. He squared his shoulders and looked around the room gratefully.

"Thank you," he said.

"We'll find her," Jason promised earnestly, hopping down from the table.

"What do you mean 'we'?" Hercules boomed. "You and him," he pointed at the startled Pythagoras, "are both staying here."

"Hercules," Jason growled, his face growing dark again.

"I'm not arguing about this," Hercules stated. "I don't want either of you out in the cold at the moment. His lungs aren't strong enough and I'm not having you risking crippling yourself by throwing yourself into a fight when that knee is still bad… and don't even try to say it's not hurting when I can see that it is." He glared at Jason. "None of us will be going anywhere until you sit yourself down at the table and relax."

"We don't have time for this," Jason said angrily.

"No we don't," Hercules agreed. "So the sooner you do what you're told the better for all of us… and the sooner I can start looking for this little girl."

For a moment it looked like Jason would carry on arguing. Then he threw himself down onto a stool with an angry huff of breath.

Hercules nodded and turned back to Talos.

"Let's go," he said as he barged his way out of the door with the worried father in tow.

Pythagoras sat down at the table and winced as he looked at his other friend. Jason had crossed his arms mutinously and was glaring at the table top. Pythagoras was not looking forward to trying to calm his friend down; usually Jason was fairly even tempered and sunny natured, but over the last couple of months he had been a little more volatile than usual – particularly if he'd been in the sort of dark mood that he'd woken up in this morning.

Suddenly Jason looked up with a half grin; a look of determination in his hazel eyes. Pythagoras did not like that look – it most definitely spelled trouble. Without a word Jason pushed himself up from the table and went over to the alcove that usually formed his 'bedroom' – although his bed was still currently in Pythagoras' room since no-one had yet thought to put it back where it belonged. He came back fairly quickly, with his breastplate on and his sword in hand.

"What are you doing?" Pythagoras asked incredulously.

"Going looking for Cassie," Jason answered calmly. "The more of us that are looking for her the quicker we'll find her."

"But Hercules said…"

"Actually Hercules said that he wouldn't go if I didn't sit down – which I did! He never said anything about staying here once he'd gone." Jason made his way to the door. "Are you coming or not?"

Pythagoras scrambled to his feet.

"Are you sure we will be doing the right thing?" he asked.

"Does a triangle have three sides?" Jason countered.

Pythagoras opened his mouth to launch into a discussion on triangles.

"Forget I said anything," Jason jumped in quickly.

"Actually triangles are very interesting," Pythagoras said. "There is something about their angles…."

"Pythagoras…"

"Yes of course," the mathematician sighed, grabbing his cloak. "Hercules is not going to be happy though," he added as he followed Jason out of the door.

* * *

Hercules crept through the deserted streets with Talos in tow and his sword in his hand. He was relying on the torchlight from the buildings lining the streets to light his way; had not risked taking a torch himself so as not to alert the city guards to his presence. The city was after all under strict curfew and anyone found out after the curfew bell had rung was likely to be arrested with no questions asked. As he paused at a corner, peering around the edge of a wall to make sure that there were no guards waiting for him, Talos barrelled into his back and careened off into a stack of crates. It was only Hercules' bulk and natural strength that stopped him from being knocked forwards and he winced at the noise made by the clattering crates. Without a word he turned and glared crossly at the young merchant. The last thing they needed was to make a lot of noise and alert any unfriendly ears to their presence.

"Sorry," Talos whispered, trying to right the crates he had fallen into without making any further noise.

Hercules turned back to the corner only to glance back with another dark glare as one of the crates Talos was now leaning against moved and made an unnaturally loud scraping noise in the darkness. Honestly this man was more clumsy than Pythagoras and Jason put together – and that was saying something given his blonde friend's habit of tripping over his own feet or dropping weaponry and the brunette lad's propensity for knocking fruit stands flying. Just what did Jason actually have against fruit anyway? There were times when it seemed all he had to do was look at a fruit seller to send their produce rolling in the dust. Hercules mentally shook himself, reminding himself to keep his mind on the task at hand.

"Right," the big man said, finally deciding that it was all clear, "where exactly were you attacked?"

Talos looked around the market place uncertainly.

"I'm not entirely sure," he said, his voice on the edge of hysteria. "They came out of an alleyway and dragged us down it a little way…"

Hercules swore under his breath, praying for patience. The man had had a shock, he reminded himself firmly, and had been hit over the head; it was not surprising really that he was a little fuzzy on some of the details – although Hercules couldn't help but think that even _Pythagoras_ would have taken more notice of his surroundings.

"Alright," he said. "Which direction were you coming from?"

"West," Talos answered promptly. "My workshop is in that direction." He waved a hand towards the one side of the agora.

"And where do you live?"

"To the south of the Canopic Way. Our home is near the baker's shop."

Hercules waved the thought of pies and pastries away. There were far more important considerations at the moment. His eyes narrowed as he looked out across the square.

"You would have been walking along that side of the agora then," he murmured, "and there's only one alleyway over there." He started to trot over, all but dragging the hapless young merchant with him.

In the alley when paused, peering about himself cautiously. This would be a good place for an ambush. Talos, however, rushed into the entrance and dropped to his knees, scooping something up and holding it out to Hercules with tears in his eyes.

"It's Arisbe," he said, his tone anguished.

Hercules looked at him in confusion.

"Cassie's favourite doll," Talos clarified. "She must have dropped her." He drew in a shuddering breath. "Cassie will be frightened without her."

Hercules dropped a sympathetic hand onto the man's shoulder.

"We'll find her," he rumbled. He looked out across the agora with thoughtfully, with troubled, narrowed eyes. "Atlantis is a big place," he murmured, "and they could have gone almost anywhere from here. All they would have to do would be to take one of the other streets leading away from the agora and they'd be away and clear."

"It's hopeless then," said Talos in despair.

"No," Hercules growled, "just a little more challenging. Come on," he added reaching down and pulling the young father to his feet, "I think it's about time I called in a few favours and we rounded up the troops."

* * *

The Temple was far too crowded for Pasiphae's tastes. The usually tranquil place was bustling with people having been turned into a makeshift hospital for the duration of the siege. The practical side of the Queen could fully understand the reasoning for this – it was after all the largest building in Atlantis (with the exception of the Palace complex) and was certainly the most central and recognisable place both for the doctors to gather and the wounded to be brought – but it still irritated her beyond measure. She did, however, gain some comfort from the fact that if she found it inconvenient then the Oracle must find this invasion of what amounted to her home dreadfully annoying. Pasiphae smiled vindictively. No matter what the Seer said to try to justify her actions, the Queen would _never_ forgive her for her part in stealing away her son and keeping his identity secret from her.

Everywhere Pasiphae looked there were people; men lying in beds; men with hideous gaping wounds who would not live the night, lying silent and still, or raving with fever, or screaming in agony; men with missing limbs, the ragged stumps cauterised to prevent excessive bleeding; soldiers with relatively minor injuries ready to be despatched back to the walls; and refugees from the outlying districts – the last ragged stragglers to arrive before the city gates were sealed for whom the floor of the Temple was the only place left to sleep – sitting in hopeless, helpless, traumatised groups, having lost everything except their lives. In many cases they had been forced to watch from hiding places as members of their families were tortured in the most brutal ways and killed. Pasiphae supposed she should have some sympathy but in fact their plight left her cold.

When had she become so callous? The hopeful but frightened young girl who had arrived at the gates of Atlantis with all the pomp and retinue due to a princess of Colchis would never have recognised herself now. Once she had told Ariadne that she had not been so very different to the Princess when she was young, and the irony was that she had been telling the truth. Would Minos' beloved daughter harden in the same way? Would she learn to lock away every emotion? To allow her heart to shrivel and grow cold? Pasiphae smiled bitterly. Somehow she could not see Jason allowing that to happen. How different might her own life have been if she had been allowed to experience the same sort of passion that her son and Ariadne clearly shared? They burned brightly, that pair, with a flame that nothing seemed able to quench, and the Queen found herself hoping that nothing ever would – not least because it suited her plans very well indeed to have Ariadne distracted by Jason.

That was not the only reason, however, much as Pasiphae hated to admit it. She knew only too well the desolation of being trapped in a marriage where love never grew and – in spite of her previous desire to see Ariadne married to Heptarian even though the girl hated the idea – she found that a tiny part of her was glad that Ariadne would be spared that feeling; that indignity. Pasiphae shook herself. She was growing soft. All of these feelings belonged in the ancient past, where they should have stayed. She had sacrificed so much in her quest for power – even to the point of sacrificing her humanity itself – that to allow weak thoughts and feelings to cause her to waver now was beneath her. Now above all she must be calm and in control. The perfect Queen.

Pasiphae looked about herself with distaste once again. If she could have she would have avoided coming to the Temple at all – at least until it was cleared of the peasantry and associated riffraff – but Minos had been adamant. It would be good for the city, he had said, to see the Royal Family praying together; to see them making offerings to the Gods. Politically Pasiphae supposed it was an astute move. It would rally the people; would make them believe that they had not been abandoned. It was just a pity that it would bring them into contact with so many of the masses. Not that Ariadne would mind, she thought somewhat spitefully, the girl seemed to enjoy slumming it in the streets.

Pasiphae had other reasons for being at the Temple too. No matter how much it galled her to do so, the Queen needed to consult the Oracle. Much as she had made plans for reconciling Minos to her son's existence and for introducing him to the reality of Jason slowly and carefully, circumstances had moved too fast and the situation was rapidly moving outside her control. Anaxandros' demands that the heir of Aeson be produced or the city surrendered to him had spurred Minos on to hunt for the boy – and Pasiphae was not altogether sure that she was ready for her husband to meet her son and knew that _Jason_ certainly was not. There would be no time to be gentle with the lad; no time to plan how he would be told or to break the news in her own way. Minos was right: they were playing for time and Jason would be an important playing piece in their game. No-one really expected Anaxandros to actually believe it if they did produce the lad; it was almost a given that he would accuse them of lying and renege on his offer, but it might encourage their allies to come to their aid; might encourage those who had supported Aeson but were lukewarm at best to Minos to come out of the woodwork and fight on their behalf. The boy would be a sort of living banner; a rallying point for their allies. Pasiphae almost smiled.

Now she just had to work out how best for Minos to 'discover' that Jason was her son, and that was where the blasted Oracle might come in handy. Surely the woman would see that they had moved beyond the point of _whether_ Minos would find out about Jason to _when_ he would find out. She claimed that everything she had done was to keep the boy safe but now she _must see_ the best way to keep him safe was to give him back to the mother he had been stolen from; to allow his stepfather to know who he was; to _use_ him in the best interests of the Oracle's beloved Atlantis. When it came down to it Pasiphae was under no illusions that the Oracle would only protect Jason for as long as it benefitted her; for as long as it benefitted her city. She had simply known the Seer for too long to believe anything else. Longer even than anyone now residing in the city knew.

Stepping forwards towards the altar beneath the great bronze bull that stood at one end of the main Temple, Pasiphae unclasped her cloak and thrust it at the nearest servant. Ariadne, she noted with growing horror, was helping to tend to a wounded soldier. The girl had better hope that her father did not see her, although Minos would undoubtedly find a reason to excuse his daughter's appalling lack of propriety and would punish those the girl was with instead. Pasiphae actually believed that that might be a better punishment for the girl – she would be deeply wounded by the knowledge that others had suffered on her behalf and by her actions. Minos was nowhere to be seen, however. He was probably in the sacred part of the Temple reserved for the King, where Poseidon's son could pray uninterrupted by the rest of the world and could seek to intercede with the God on their behalf.

Pasiphae moved forwards to the main alter. Standing with palms outstretched she began the ritual incantations and prayers to Poseidon, pausing to pour a libation on the bomos before returning to her prayers and devotions. For all her faults and all her machinations Pasiphae respected and feared the Gods – although she personally found her stepdaughter's more ostentatious piety excessive and nauseating.

"Do you think that the Gods have forgiven you for what you tried to do?" the Oracle's clear voice took her by surprise and much to her own annoyance Pasiphae could not help but jump.

"You attempted to kill Poseidon's servant," the Seer went on. "To claim power for yourself. You violated our most sacred laws. Do you ask for forgiveness now?"

"I ask for nothing," Pasiphae bit back. "I pray for the city. I pray that we will be delivered from this siege."

"And do you not think that this is the Gods' judgement upon you and upon the King for all you have done to seize power?" the Oracle enquired.

"This is not the work of the Gods," Pasiphae answered sharply. "This is the work of man."

"Perhaps," the Oracle said softly. She came forwards to stand beside the Queen.

Pasiphae immediately tensed. It had been many years since the relationship between the two women could be described in any way as cordial.

"And do you also pray for your son?" the Oracle asked gently.

"Yes." Pasiphae's response was soft and sad, taking even her by surprise.

The Oracle half-smiled.

"Even though I have foreseen that he will destroy you?" she asked.

"He is my son," Pasiphae answered simply.

"Come," the Oracle said. "There are things we must discuss."

In silence that seemed to stretch ahead of them the two women crossed the floor of the Temple and began the descent that would lead them to the chamber of the Oracle cut into the rock upon which the Temple and Palace stood. The last time Pasiphae had been here she had come in anguish rather than the anger with which she usually visited the Oracle; her son's existence new in her mind, tearing at her thoughts and heart. At the bottom of the steps she paused. The Oracle herself had gone on ahead and knelt by her scrying bowl, tattooed hands making mystical patterns in the water. Pasiphae nearly laughed. These were the tricks the Oracle employed with the masses to impress the gullible. She, however, knew where the woman's visions stemmed from; knew how rare a gift it was without adding the layers of mystery to it; knew that the secrets of the Oracle's predictions were both far simpler and far more complex than anything the multitude could have imagined. Even the King and his brat of a daughter did not know how the visions worked, but the Queen knew all too well; had known for longer than she cared to think.

"Do not take me for a gullible fool," she said sharply. "Your words and your mysticism will not scare me."

"Very well," the Oracle answered, looking at the Queen serenely with the same half-smile as before.

"We need to talk about Jason," Pasiphae said.

* * *

Pythagoras trundled after Jason through the still dark streets. If he hadn't known better he would never have believed that his friend had injured his knee a week or so earlier. Jason was moving at speed – a speed his friend was struggling to keep up with – and bore no sign of the heavy limp he had been walking with earlier that day. Yet as they trotted under the light of a torch, attached to the side of a closed tavern, Pythagoras couldn't help but notice the little lines of pain around his friend's eyes; the strain he was so clearly trying to keep from showing. The mathematician worried at his lip.

"We could go back," he ventured, knowing that he was likely to be rebuffed.

"You can if you want to," Jason answered quickly. "But I promised Talos that we'd find Cassie and that's what I'm going to do."

"Jason, you are still in pain," Pythagoras tried. "No-one will think any less of you if you go back."

"I will," Jason said firmly. He did, however, slow his pace slightly noticing that Pythagoras was a little more out of breath than usual.

At the corner of the agora the two young men paused, peering around themselves.

"Where would Talos and Cassie have been when they were attacked?" Pythagoras murmured, half to himself.

"Well they live down that way," Jason answered, pointing.

"How do you know that?"

Jason grimaced.

"Cassie dragged me back there to play house one day," Jason muttered in embarrassment.

Pythagoras tried desperately hard not to laugh at the horrified expression on his friend's face.

"Right," he said. "Let's check on the far side of the agora then. If we start on that side and work our way around the corner there are no more than three or four alleys to look at."

"Fair enough," Jason answered.

As they started across the square a noise made them stop, Jason dragging Pythagoras behind a stall. Hercules and Talos came out from one of the side streets. The young father had something in his hand and was running a despairing hand through his blonde hair.

"We'll go and see Meriones first," Hercules said as he drew level with the stall where he two young friends were hiding. "He should know where I can find Gelo and Kerkyon and knowing him he'll want to help anyway… I reckon he knows enough people around the city that we should be able to get a reasonable search party together. Then we start looking in the streets leading away from the agora."

Talos nodded, still clutching the cloth covered object in his hand. As he and Hercules passed by Jason winced, having got a good look at what the young man was carrying.

"Arisbe," he murmured.

"Arisbe?" Pythagoras asked.

"Cassie's doll. She never goes anywhere without it."

"Oh," Pythagoras said, unsure of what else he could say.

Jason sighed. He peered around the end of the stall, checking that the other two were out of sight.

"Come on," he said sharply. "At least we know where to start now."

He trotted across the agora with Pythagoras in tow. Once they were in the alleyway they stopped, looking around. For a few minutes neither one of them spoke. Jason poked at a pile of rubbish with the tip of his sword.

"This is useless," he burst out. "We're never going to find her this way." He paused, poking at the pile a little more vigorously. "She was screaming," he muttered to himself.

Pythagoras froze.

"What did you just say?" he asked.

"I said we aren't going to find her this way," Jason answered.

"No, after that," Pythagoras said.

"She was screaming," Jason repeated.

"She was screaming," Pythagoras murmured. "Of course! They didn't take her out into the agora. It's obvious!"

"Not to me," Jason said in confusion.

"They took Cassie just before the curfew bell," Pythagoras explained. "They would have needed to get her off the street as quickly as possible or risk running into a patrol… so they must have had an escape route planned and a hiding place nearby."

"That doesn't mean that they didn't take her across the agora," Jason stated.

"Think about it Jason. She was screaming. What would people do if they heard a child screaming like that?"

"Erm…"

"They would look," Pythagoras said. "The slavers couldn't risk anyone seeing them carrying a screaming little girl because they might be remembered."

"So they couldn't take her too far and they couldn't take her too near any houses," Jason said.

"Exactly," Pythagoras exclaimed. "Most of the streets and alleys that lead from the agora are in residential areas. Only this side backs on to the less populated industrial area… and the only alley on this side is this one."

"So they must have carried on down this alley then."

"Yes," Pythagoras said brightly, "and look… Hercules missed this." He pulled a torn piece of fabric from a protruding nail sticking out of the wall further down the alley.

Jason looked at him blankly.

"What is it?" he asked.

"It's a piece of blanket," Pythagoras stated confidently, "and Talos said that he thought they'd wrapped Cassie in a blanket."

"It might not mean anything," Jason murmured. "It could have been there for ages."

"I do not think so," Pythagoras argued. "It is a fresh tear. If it had been there for some time the edges would be worn and dirty… We are lucky to find this."

"Maybe," Jason said dubiously.

"I believe that Hercules may lead the search party in the wrong direction," Pythagoras said, "and by the time they realise the mistake the kidnappers will have had ample time to get away. They must believe that there is a way to get Cassie out of the city in spite of the siege." He paused. "If we had done as Hercules wanted and stayed at home this might have been found too late."

"Well then it's lucky I don't like being told what to do," Jason answered smugly.

"I fear that Hercules will still be cross, however," Pythagoras retorted, "and we do not know how many men are in this band of slavers. Talos saw four but there could easily be others. We should find Hercules and bring him here – along with anyone he has managed to gather with him."

"It might be too late by then," Jason said firmly. "You said it yourself. You can go looking for Hercules if you want but I'm going on."

"No," Pythagoras said reluctantly. "We must stick together. It will do no good if we all end up in different places. You might need my help when we do find the men who are holding Cassie." He paused again. "Hercules will undoubtedly be angry with both of us," he said again, somewhat unnecessarily.

Jason sighed and peered into the darkness of the alleyway.

"Alright," he said. "We'll see where this alley leads then." He nudged Pythagoras in a friendly manner. "Come on Nancy Drew," he said cheerfully.

"What is a 'Nancy Drew'?" Pythagoras asked as they started to move again, walking into the darkness.

Jason chuckled.

"It doesn't matter," he said lightly. "Let's go."

* * *

Hercules raced through the streets now that he had a firm destination in mind with Talos hard on his heels. While part of him acknowledged the need for caution – the need to avoid any of the patrols that routinely patrolled the city streets on a curfew night – he was also well aware that every minute counted and the longer Castianiera was in the hands of the slavers the less chance they would have of getting her back again. At a corner he paused to catch his breath, nearly doubled over as he gasped for air, and heard rather than saw his companion doing the same, their breath coming in puffs of steam in the cold air.

Suddenly the horns began to cry again. Another attack was about to begin. Hercules swore loudly.

"Just perfect," he said sarcastically, knowing that the confusion would make it easier for the kidnappers to spirit Cassie away to another location. While he did not believe that they would risk trying to get her out of the city during a battle itself they might well move her to a different location further away from the agora and safer for them.

Without another word he straightened and started off at a trot again, more determined than ever to get to Meriones' house and find people to help with the search. He rounded the next corner at speed and bounced off the broad chest of a man coming the other way. The broad _armoured_ chest of a man coming the other way… at the head of a troop of guards. Hercules grimaced and mentally swore. The one thing that he had wanted to avoid happening at all costs had happened – they had run slap bang into a patrol. Beside him he felt Talos skid to a halt and half turned to look at the merchant, noticing that the man's face was as white as a sheet and his eyes were large and worried.

The leader of the guard patrol was of more than average height – certainly taller then Hercules and he was far from short himself – and definitely middle years; his hair greyed and his face grim and careworn. He carried himself with the cool efficiency but alert stance of a trained warrior and his eyes were watchful and intelligent, his sword already loose and in his hand. A professional soldier then – certainly more so than many of the current city guard. Hercules had the uncomfortable feeling that he was in the presence of a dangerous man. With one cool look the patrol leader looked the burly wrestler up and down, barely sparing a glance for Talos – clearly knowing which one of them would pose the greater threat.

"The curfew bell sounded some time ago," he said in a firm baritone, "and an attack on the city is imminent. Can you not hear the warning horns?"

"Yes," Hercules answered. "Sorry… we've been to… erm…"

"It is my duty to ensure that the streets are safe and the houses protected from looters," the soldier continued. "Can you give me any reason why I should not arrest you right now?"

Hercules gulped. It would do no good at all if he and Talos were arrested and carted off to the cells; would only serve to endanger little Cassie even more. He had once told Jason that no good ever came from telling the truth but right here and now it was the only thing he could think of – although what good it would do he did not know.

"My friend and his daughter have recently returned to Atlantis," he began. "While the fever was gripping the city they were in the countryside but they came back when the Amphigeneians invaded. My friend's daughter is only six. She's a lovely little blonde thing. Anyway they were coming back across the agora just before the curfew bell when they were attacked. Talos here was hit over the head and little Cassie was stolen from him. There was a group of men… we think they were slavers from what he heard them say… and now they have his daughter. We were on our way to get help from some other friends of mine when we ran into you… we were going to look for the girl."

"Is this true?" the soldier asked Talos.

"Yes sir," Talos said desperately. "Please. Help us. Cassie is my world. She is all I have."

The soldier nodded and re-sheathed his sword. He sighed.

"Yours is not the first tale of this kind that I have heard in the last few days," he admitted. "There are others… all refugees… newcomers to the city. Their children have gone missing. Spirited away from them." He looked at Talos again. "You are the first to have been directly attacked, however. The other children have gone missing from the marketplace while their parents tried to barter for goods. At first I believed that the children had simply wandered off and got lost but there is too much of a pattern now."

"You'll let us be on our way then?" Hercules asked hopefully.

"I cannot allow you to roam the streets after curfew," the soldier answered. "But," he carried on, effectively cutting off any argument from the two men in front of him, "this situation cannot be allowed to continue. There are many who believe that the King is too busy to deal with what they feel is a trifling matter but I believe that this matter must be put before him; he must be made aware. If he allows me to leave my current duties then we will see if we cannot find your daughter for you." He clapped Talos firmly on the shoulder, carefully manoeuvring the man into the centre of the patrol of troops.

"Come," the soldier continued, "we will go to him now."

With the troops drawn up around them, Hercules and Talos had no option but to follow the leader of the soldiers down the street heading back towards the Palace and Temple complex, much as the delay chafed them.

* * *

The alleyway had been dark, narrow and winding and had led out onto an equally winding street deep within the heart of the industrial district. Pythagoras shivered as the winter wind stirred up the debris and detritus of city life and pulled his cloak more firmly about himself, manfully resisting the urge to cough as the dust irritated his throat. By the Gods it was cold tonight. Looking across at Jason as they hurried down the street he realised with a start that his friend was not wearing his cloak; had come out of the house wearing just his tunic and breastplate. While that would undoubtedly free Jason's sword arm and make any potential fighting easier, Pythagoras couldn't help but wonder at the fact that he didn't even look cold. Surely Jason should be freezing dressed like that? Besides they weren't actually planning on doing any fighting. As they had travelled down the alley Pythagoras had elicited an agreement from his dark haired friend that as soon as they had discovered where little Cassie was hidden one (or preferably both) of them would go and fetch Hercules and whatever other help the burly wrestler had managed to rustle up.

Somehow Pythagoras got the impression that Jason had simply forgotten to bring a cloak. He frowned. Much as he hated to admit it he couldn't help but agree with Hercules – Jason really did have no real sense of self-preservation and was completely incapable of considering his own needs. He shook his head in exasperation.

A sudden noise behind them sent Jason into a darkly recessed doorway, pulling the startled Pythagoras with him and placing a finger to his own lips, communicating the need for complete silence with his eyes. Pythagoras scarcely dared breathe as the noise came closer – heavy tramping feet and soft but harsh voices. The voices drew level with where the two young men were concealed and stopped.

"Damn it's cold tonight," one of them grunted.

"That's good," a second voice growled. "It'll keep most of the guards off the streets." He laughed, a harsh sound. "Our brave city guards are not known for braving harsh weather," he added.

The first voice sniggered its agreement.

"Did you get her stashed with the others?"

"Yeah," the second voice sneered. "She'll raise a pretty penny too with that gold hair. There's rich merchants in Persia as would pay a fortune to have a slave with hair like that… and if not there's many a brothel that'd take her too… pity we couldn't get any boys too though… they like them in the brothels of Athens."

Pythagoras could hear Jason's breathing change; a harsh rasping note that had not been there before. In the darkness he put a restraining but comforting hand on his friend's arm and felt Jason cover it with his own hand, squeezing his silent thanks for Pythagoras' support.

"Best of it is she's a refugee child too," the second voice went on, "so no-one'll really notice she's missing. I mean who would they tell anyway? No-one's going to care about a child that's not even from the city. They're all far too busy with this siege."

"Hmm," the first voice grunted. "We'd better be getting back soon. They'll be missing us."

"You really think so?"

"We've got the wine," the first voice pointed out.

The horns began to sound the alarm for an imminent attack. The first man swore.

"Come on," he said to his companion, "that'll bring the guards out. We've got to get back and off the street."

The sounds of two sets of feet pounded away down the street. Jason jumped out of the doorway before Pythagoras even saw him move and hared off after them. If he was feeling any pain from his injured leg now he certainly wasn't showing it the mathematician thought grimly, desperately trying to keep up. He was out of breath before he even reached the next corner and stopped for a second to allow the stars to fade from in front of his eyes. Rounding the bend he found himself in a deserted street with no sign that his friend had ever passed that way at all – although Pythagoras knew that Jason must have come this way only moments before.

"Jason!" He hissed. "Jason, where are you?"

He was met by silence. Turning in a slow circle the young genius looked about himself helplessly. He was completely alone.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N So this chapter is a day later than I intended.... sorry! I've been a bit busy this week. Thank you for the comments.
> 
> Please enjoy this chapter and don't forget to let me know what you think.....

Jason careened down another narrow winding street without considering where he was going or what he was doing. The moment the conversation between the slavers was over and they had run off he had raced after them without another thought, although by some miracle his natural instincts were keeping him just back out of their sight and somehow they failed to hear his pounding feet – possibly because their own running drowned him out. As soon as the two villains' talk had turned to selling children to brothels his mind has shut down almost entirely and for an instant he had been back in another dark and dingy alleyway what felt like a million miles from where he was now with Hector's hot breath on the back of his neck. He shuddered involuntarily. It had only been Pythagoras' warm hand on his arm that had kept him grounded in reality – that had stopped him from jumping out of the doorway where they had been hidden to confront the men with his sword – and he had never felt so grateful to his friend as he did right now. Confronting the kidnappers at that point would have done no good whatsoever; would have resulted in them losing what little chance they had of finding Cassie.

In the back of his mind Jason was incredibly glad that Hercules wasn't here to see this. The big man would definitely have had something to say about his young friend trying to run down cluttered alleyways when in actual fact _walking_ was still a bit of an issue. Although he was not letting it slow him down his knee felt decidedly less than stable and he was aware that the pounding he was currently giving it would not be helping it to heal in any way, shape or form. It had nearly given way on more than one occasion and had sent him sideways, bouncing off the edges of walls painfully; picking up multiple small bruises and scrapes that he couldn't really feel now with the adrenaline coursing through his system but would undoubtedly become aware of later – if only because he had the distinct feeling that Hercules would make sure he knew where each and every one was. Lately the big man seemed to take it almost as a personal insult whenever Jason let himself get hurt.

Not that he ever did it on purpose, mind you. He wasn't a masochist after all – just incredibly good at finding difficult situations it seemed, or having them find him. He never really intended any of it; never started the day thinking "what sort of monster can I go off to fight today" or "leaping over cattle looks like fun… I must give it a go". The Oracle could waffle on about his destiny all she liked but there were definitely days when Jason thought he was just plain jinxed… and it wasn't enough that he always seemed to end up in these situations, he had to drag his friends into them every time too. Jason sighed. He really didn't deserve having such good friends as either Pythagoras or Hercules for all the trouble he caused them.

Tearing around another corner, deep in the heart of the industrial area of Atlantis, Jason tried to drag his mind back to the task at hand. As he entered the street he slowed, however. Where had the men gone? They hadn't been that far ahead of him and should still be in sight in the street. The street was empty though, which raised another question – where was Pythagoras? The last time Jason had checked (which admittedly had been just after he started chasing the slavers, he realised with a guilty start) the young genius had been right behind him, but now he was nowhere in sight. Jason slowly trotted back to the corner, very much aware that his knee was starting to throb abominably once more, and peered around it into the street he had just come from. There was still no sign of Pythagoras.

The young hero bit at the edge of his thumbnail worriedly. How had he failed to notice that he'd lost Pythagoras? His blonde friend was still not quite well and definitely vulnerable and he'd effectively abandoned him in the streets of Atlantis at a time when the city was under attack. Guilt gnawed at Jason. Pythagoras hadn't even brought a weapon with him and now he was out there somewhere, alone and without any means of protection. Jason really should go back to look for him. The only problem with that being that he really had no idea of where he himself was. His headlong dash had been done without taking notice of what was around him in his desperation to keep up with the slavers; to save Cassie from a dreadful fate; to protect her at least in part because no-one had ever been there to protect him. Right now what that meant was that he was completely and utterly lost. Jason looked around, still chewing at a thumbnail.

The kidnappers couldn't have got so far ahead of him that they had already turned the next corner and he could no longer hear their pounding feet. Which meant, of course, that they must have gone into a building somewhere along this street. Should he check or should he try to go back for Pythagoras though? Indecision clawed at him and he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. Yes Pythagoras might potentially be in danger but Cassie _definitely_ _was_. The mathematician was likely to either follow Jason (in which case he should be here fairly shortly – and probably with much more idea of where _here_ actually was) or, more likely, to head for Meriones' house to fetch Hercules. Perhaps his best plan then was to try to work out where the men had gone; to try to work out where they were holding Cassie; and then to try to retrace his steps and find his blonde friend.

Decision made Jason turned back towards the street where he had lost the kidnappers, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. Where could they have gone? They street seemed to be lined with small warehouses – buildings where the local merchants routinely stored their wares – and as such there shouldn't be all that many doorways. It was a long street, however, and Jason found himself facing perhaps ten or twelve doors to check out. One door looked very much like another and there was really no indication of which one the men might have entered. He'd have to check them all then, he decided firmly, no matter how long that took. As he started back down the street, however, he was rocked by a sudden wave of pressure in his head – a wave that disappeared as quickly as it had arrived.

Jason stopped and took a deep breath, trying desperately hard to regain some measure of control. What the hell had that been? He looked down the street again. One door now seemed to look a little different from the rest, although he could not have explained why. Slowly he approached it and stopped in front, his hand hovering near the latch. This was ridiculous. The door was no different from any of the others in the street, so why was he suddenly so convinced that it was the right one? In his mind's eye he could almost see them carrying Castianiera in through this door, her small body hidden by a blanket, her screams muffled by the cloth and growing quieter as she grew tired.

He swallowed hard; his imagination was playing tricks on him again. It hadn't happened for a long time now. Jason could vaguely remember sometimes seeing things that weren't there as a young child; getting strange feelings about people and places that he saw; but it was just an overactive imagination – that's what his Dad had said anyway. In the years that followed his Dad's disappearance the strange dreams that he sometimes had and the daydreams where he saw (and sometimes spoke to) people who weren't there (imaginary friends Chloe had said) had helped him to cope with his everyday life, and gradually they had faded as all young children's imaginings eventually do; had disappeared completely when he no longer needed them – when he grew old enough to know the difference between illusion and reality. So why was he thinking of them now? Why did it feel so much like déjà vu? Like illusion and reality were about to come crashing into each other?

Jason shook himself. He was still a bit out of sorts after those weird dreams last night – had been all day really. He'd managed to put his anxiety and dark mood to one side this evening while they'd had dinner and Hercules had told stories, but now in the darkness of the street everything seemed to come back in full force. That feeling of unnamed dread – that something unpleasant was heading his way – gripped him once more. For God's sake get a grip of yourself, he thought. This isn't going to help anyone. With a hand more steady than he felt he pushed down on the latch, half expecting the door to be locked. If it was then he would know that all these weird feelings – all this nervousness – was pointless; that his imagination was simply in overdrive.

The door swung open.

It didn't mean anything Jason told himself – just someone being careless and forgetting to lock a door. Still it wouldn't hurt to have a bit of a look about… just in case as it were. He slipped in through the dark opening, pulling the door behind him until it was almost closed – so close enough in fact that a casual observer from the outside would probably fail to notice in the darkness that it was not shut completely. The room inside was pitch black and Jason stood for a minute, holding onto the door latch with one hand, as his eyes adjusted to the gloom.

As his eyes adjusted and the room became clearer, Jason became aware of the fact that this was not the simple warehouse that he had initially believed. The room he stood in was small – much smaller than he would have expected – and largely empty. On the far side there was an archway that seemed to open onto a set of stairs which descended below the level of the street. This place reminded Jason of the entrance to Kyros' lair where he and his friends had been taken as they tried to free Medusa. That particular adventure had not had the happy ending that they had hoped for and Jason couldn't help but hope that this time around there might be a better outcome. He crossed the room on silent feet and peered down the stairwell. There was little to see but somewhere up ahead a torch or lantern flickered and faint voices echoed up out of the darkness. Jason started to creep down the stairs slowly, praying to whatever gods were listening that he was in the right place and was not about to burst in on some poor unsuspecting merchant going about his business. Somehow he didn't think that would happen though – an honest merchant would have a warehouse stocked with goods and not an empty room with a narrow staircase descending into the earth.

As he stole closer to the flickering light the voices became distinct. It was definitely the two men from earlier and several others from the sound of it. He crept onwards, keeping to the shadows, knowing that he needed to know what he was facing here. The stairs opened out into a long corridor. About halfway down it a single solitary torch hung, suspended from a metal loop protruding from the wall, casting light over an open archway. Jason stole along the corridor, trying to avoid the light as much as possible and to blend in with the shadows. Near the door was a lone barrel – a remnant perhaps of a time when this place had actually been used for the storage of goods – which Jason ducked down behind, trying hard to avoid yelping as his knee protested the movement. He peered around the side and in through the doorway.

The arch opened out into a reasonable sized room, well lit and warmed with braziers. There were at least ten men in the room that Jason could count – and he couldn't see the whole room from his vantage point. He ducked back behind the barrel again. Being honest that was really a few more than he could handle even when fully fit. Now though it would be pretty much impossible. The sensible thing to do would be to back out and try to work out where he was and from there find his friends; to lead a proper rescue party back here. The problem being that he wasn't entirely sure if they were actually holding Cassie here and if they were there was the chance that they would use the chaos of the battle on the city walls to move her. If he was gone when that happened – if he was searching for Hercules – they would never find her again.

Pythagoras would come, he decided. Sooner or later the mathematician would find and join him. Whether it was on his own or in the company of their wrestler friend didn't really matter. If Pythagoras were alone then either he or Jason could go and find Hercules while the other one kept watch, and if he was with the big man and any hastily assembled rescue party then so much the better. All he had to do now was try to find out whether or not Cassie was here and leave some kind of sign to let Pythagoras know which door to try.

Quietly he pushed himself to his feet and slunk past the doorway, keeping to the dark shadows on the far side of the corridor and praying to whatever gods happened to be listening that no one in the room would turn around or look too hard at the shadows. The kidnappers inside appeared to be playing with dice, drinking and laughing raucously. It seemed obscene to Jason that they could be having such fun when they had done something so vile. He bit down hard on the instinct that told him to dive headlong into the room and attack the slavers inside. That would do no good at all. Soon though, he promised himself; as soon as Cassie and any other captives – because he was not so naïve as to think she would be the only one – were safe he would come back and rain down hell on these creatures (he couldn't bring himself to think of them as men).

For once his luck seemed to hold. There was no outcry from the room and by the time he rounded the corner at the end of the corridor he breathed a sigh of relief. Ahead the passageway forked. Jason stopped. Right or left? The pull he felt towards the left fork was almost physical. He shrugged. It would hardly be the weirdest thing that had happened to him if it did turn out to be the correct passage and if not he could easily backtrack and go down the other one.

Decision made he headed off again. There was no need to try to keep to the shadows now – this passage was not lit. Maybe that meant it was not the right one? But _something_ kept pulling him onwards. Not far into the passage he saw a door. It was bound to be locked, he reasoned; the slavers would not want to risk their precious merchandise getting away. To his surprise, however, the latch gave easily under his hand and the door swung inwards without a sound. Jason smiled ruefully. He had half expected it to creak loudly like some bad old horror film. Clearly though the hinges of _this_ door were well oiled and the door itself saw regular use. He slipped inside.

With growing horror he looked around. Everywhere he looked there were what could only be described as _cages_ – little wooden cages – and each cage was occupied by a girl. There were fifteen or twenty of them in the room; all of differing ages – the oldest must have been thirteen or fourteen and the youngest only two or three. The older girls were watching him with hate filled but hopeless eyes. Jason's head reeled and he resisted the urge to be sick. Now more than ever he longed to storm back through the corridor and wreak havoc with the creatures upstairs. First though he had a job to do; he had to ensure that these children were safe and were returned to their families.

Then he caught sight of a flash of golden hair in one of the cages.

"Cassie?" he called softly.

Castianiera raised her head. She had clearly been crying and the image was so similar to the one from his dream last night – the one of little Cassie sobbing in a small room – that he nearly gasped out loud.

"J-j-jason?" the child sobbed.

Jason rushed over to the child trying to shush her in case anyone was walking past.

"Are you alright?" he asked, wincing at the idiocy of his own question. Of course she was not alright, he chided himself. How could she be alright under the circumstances?

"I… I… I w-w-want my Daddy."

"I know," Jason said. "We'll get you out of here and back to him soon. He sent me to look for you. We've all been looking for you… Hercules, Pythagoras and me. Hercules has gone to rustle up a rescue party and we'll have you out of here as quick as anything."

"Do you know him?" One of the other girls asked, a sharp eyed child of around thirteen.

"Of course," Cassie answered. "This is my friend Jason. He plays with me."

"Have you really come to get us out?" another little girl asked.

"Yes," Jason answered earnestly. "I promise I'm going to get you all out of here."

"Why?" the first girl asked suspiciously.

"Because he's a hero, silly," Cassie said matter-of-factly. "That's what my Daddy said when you rescued me from the harbour."

Jason blushed and looked at the floor, suddenly finding himself the object of scrutiny of all the girls in the room.

"Cassie," he muttered awkwardly, "I didn't do anything special."

"But you're here now to save us aren't you?" the second little girl said.

"Yeah," Jason answered. "Now listen, are there any more of you?"

"I don't think so," the first girl said. "I heard Sabas – the leader – saying that he wanted a full shipment before he moved us out of the city. When they brought _her_ in earlier," she nodded towards Cassie, "one of them said to another one that she was the last and they'd be moving us tomorrow. There was something about a truce starting tomorrow? I'm not really sure what they were talking about."

Jason moved over to her.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Amathea," the girl said. "My parents are farmers. We came here from our home because they thought it would be safer."

"I'm Jason. I promise we'll get you out of here. I'm going to try to open these cages now and then I need to go back to wait for my friends but I _will_ be back for you. I just need you to keep as quiet as possible and keep your heads down no matter what you hear alright?"

"Yes," Amathea answered. "I'll keep them quiet."

"Good girl," Jason said. He used the tip of his sword to lever open the lock as quietly as he could manage and helped the girl to step out of the cage and stand up. "How long have you been here?"

"Three days," Amathea answered. "I was at the market looking to trade some of our wares when I was taken."

Jason nodded and carried on opening cages.

"Do you have a knife?" Amathea asked.

Jason frowned.

"Yeah," he said.

"Give it to me," the girl demanded.

Jason produced his hunting knife from in his belt and handed it to the girl. She took it with a half-smile and started on the cages on the other side of the room.

"I can open these," she said confidently. "You go and sort out our captors."

Jason grinned at the girl's spirit. Then he staggered back slightly as he was hit by a flying Cassie, released from the cage she had been held in, throwing her arms around his legs. Without even thinking Jason reached down and caught her up into his arms, smiling as she hugged him.

"Stay here with Amathea and the other girls and I'll be back to take you to your Daddy before you know it," he said putting the girl back on her feet.

Cassie nodded bravely and stepped away, still sniffling slightly.

Jason nodded.

"I'll be back," he said softly.

Back in the corridor he stopped and tried to regain control over his emotions. He couldn't afford to fall apart now. He drew in a shaky breath and set off again. As he approached the brightly lit room he slowed again, once more taking to the shadows and creeping past as quietly as he could. Once again his luck held and he made it up into the room at street level without incident. He slipped back out into the street and looked around. How could he make sure that his friends knew where he was? Suddenly he grinned. If Pythagoras was going to be there, there was only one way really. With the tip of his sword he scratched a triangle into the door and added his best rendition of a pie inside is just in case Hercules was on his own. He had to admit that it was distinctly wonky but hopefully Hercules would still know what is was.

Job done Jason slipped back inside and made his way back down the stairs and over to the open archway. Crouching down again, he bit back a groan. God his knee was painful and had definitely swollen again. He took a couple of deep breaths and swallowed hard, settling in to wait and watch until the cavalry hopefully arrived.

* * *

Pythagoras looked up and down the empty street, worrying at his lip. Surely Jason couldn't have gone far? There really was no way he should be able to run on that knee at all much less run fast. But this was Jason, Pythagoras reminded himself. His friend seemed to have a habit of doing the impossible. The young mathematician suspected that his brunette friend was running on sheer willpower and gut instinct at the moment; allowing his emotions to rule. Hercules really shouldn't have made that ill thought out suggestion that Cassie might have been taken for purposes other than becoming a servant; he should have known that it would set Jason off. After all it really wasn't all that long since the incident with Alektryon and the resultant buried memories it had stirred up in Jason. Pythagoras had a feeling that no matter what state he was in Jason would do almost anything to stop someone else from having to go through what he had done.

Still he really wasn't in a condition to be fighting a group of slavers. If he had been in any way fit he would have been added to the list to serve on the walls in the siege and the fact that he hadn't been spoke volumes. What would happen if Jason, alone and hampered by injury, came face to face with the slavers? Pythagoras had no doubt that his heart would rule his head and he would jump in to try to rescue little Cassie even against overwhelming odds. The best that his blonde friend could hope for was that Jason might wait for backup – maybe. He knew that Hercules was trying to round up a group of rescuers and he must know (or soon would) that he and Pythagoras had lost one another, so hopefully he would find out where Cassie was being held and wait for his friends rather than rashly doing anything on his own. Hopefully.

So the question was should Pythagoras follow Jason to find out where he had gone or should he look for Hercules first? He knew that Hercules had gone to Meriones but if the big man needed to round up people he would clearly move on from there and Pythagoras wouldn't know where he had gone… but Meriones would. That is if he didn't go to round up helpers himself, which Pythagoras had to admit he was likely to do. He sighed. Back to square one. They _would_ have to come back through the agora though and he would be able to catch them then. He smiled in relief, then frowned as he listened to the ever increasing noise of the war horns. The sounds of battle could not reach here but he had no doubt that on the walls things were far from peaceful. This was not a good night to be out on the streets.

He shook himself. What was his next move then? Find Hercules now, he decided, and then go in search of their dark haired friend. He shook his head ruefully. No matter whether their actions _did_ find Cassie Pythagoras had a feeling that Hercules would have a few choice words for both him and Jason when he caught up with them. Pythagoras wasn't entirely sure he could blame the bulky wrestler either. Neither one of them was really well enough to be out on the cold streets at night when there was trouble in the city; neither one of them was really in a position to defend themselves – especially as he had once again forgotten to bring a weapon with him. In the kitchen of their home it had seemed like the most natural thing in the world to go along with Jason; to come and search for Cassie themselves; to add an extra couple of pairs of eyes looking for clues – and he _had_ worked out the most important clue so far, he reminded himself, surely that would go some way to lessening his older friend's ire? Pythagoras sighed. No, Hercules would still be exasperated and annoyed and would show it in his own inimitable Hercules style – with lots of loud exclamations and much banging about, all while delivering one of his infamous well-meaning lectures. Their chances of escaping without any sort of anger from Hercules were slim to non-existent – and if Pythagoras were being completely honest with himself he would have to admit that it would be well deserved. He had known from the start that Jason was not thinking clearly – was letting his heart and emotions rule – and had completely failed to act as the voice of reason that his friend had needed. Instead he had jumped at the chance to escape the boredom of the house; did not want to be left behind to wait alone.

Now though he really did need to start looking for Hercules no matter what sort of reception he was likely to get from the big man. At least in Pythagoras' current condition the burly wrestler was unlikely to hang him from the window by his feet. Wherever he was Jason was likely to be getting in over his head; to need them to come to his aid or at least to support him. When all was said and done he was in all likelihood going to need the support of both of them once any fighting was over and the reality of the situation hit him. Pythagoras was worried about what consequences the emotional fallout from tonight's activities would have for Jason. The very nature of what had happened would be bound to affect the young man in some way and the other two would need to be there for him. Decision made to search for Hercules the young genius started back the way he had come, peering worriedly into the shadows as the darkness seemed to close in around him. He really should have brought a sword, he berated himself. After all the months of living with Jason he knew well enough that trouble could fall on them at any time. Yet in the heat of the moment and the rush to leave the house he had forgotten it once again. They were never supposed to be doing any fighting though; were only supposed to be finding out where Cassie had been taken. Although Pythagoras had to admit that he hadn't even thought about what might happen if they did manage to discover her whereabouts – or at least some clue as to where she was being held. It had been stupid of him really – he knew Jason's impulsive nature all too well; knew that his friend would never fail to try to help another person; knew that he had almost no sense of self-preservation and a piteously low sense of his own self-worth.

He sighed again and picked up his pace. As he re-entered the agora the sound of multiple marching feet made him duck back into the alleyway. Hercules _might_ be back already – although Pythagoras couldn't help thinking that it was probably far too soon to hope for that – but he certainly wouldn't march in step. He peered out of the darkness fearfully. The tramping feet came ever closer. Pythagoras gulped. He had a horrible suspicion that it was a patrol and he really had no inclination to be caught out on the streets after curfew – could not afford to be arrested at this point. He simply had to find Hercules.

The patrol came into view, led by a tall, grim faced soldier. Pythagoras gasped. With them were Hercules and Talos. The young mathematician drew back further into the shadows. What was he supposed to do now? If Hercules had been arrested then it would be down to him, unarmed and unaided, to help Jason. He looked back at the patrol again, trying to work out if there was some way he could free Hercules from their clutches; some story that he could come up with that would obtain the immediate release of his friend. Then he noticed something odd. Neither Hercules nor Talos seemed to be restrained in any way. Far from being dragged along they were walking alongside the patrol freely, the burly wrestler deep in conversation with the patrol leader. It didn't make sense. Experience told Pythagoras that the city guard were to be avoided at all costs; that they would only ever be a hindrance rather than a help; that they were made up exclusively of bullies and thugs who delighted in the power that they held over the general citizenry. But that didn't seem to be the case here. The patrol leader was listening to Hercules intently, his face serious but not unfriendly.

Pythagoras bit his lip. Should he follow at a distance? Try to find out what was going on in the hope that it would help Cassie? March straight up to them and come up with a convenient lie to extricate Hercules from the group so that he could apprise him of the Jason situation? Tell the truth? Indecision caught at the mathematician and he wavered, unsure of his next move. Then the decision was effectively removed from his hands altogether. As the troop came level with the alley one of their number peeled off the back, clearly looking for somewhere to relieve himself, and trotted straight into the alley where Pythagoras was hiding. There was no time to flee back into the darkness before the guard was upon him. With hindsight Pythagoras didn't know which of them was more surprised; himself, caught unawares as he tried to decide what to do or the guard, already fumbling with the laces on his trousers and clearly not expecting to look up and see a random mathematician hiding in the darkness.

In a trice the guard had caught hold of his shoulder, squeezing it firmly and eliciting a startled squeak and a pained grimace from Pythagoras. He shoved the young man out into the agora and frogmarched him across to re-join his troop, just about to disappear up the Sacred Way, gripping his arm none too gently.

"Sir," the guard yelled as they came up to the back of the patrol, now well on down the Sacred Way, "I caught this one lurking in an alleyway back there."

The patrol leader signalled a halt and pushed his way through his men to bring himself face to face with the startled young man.

"What are you doing?" he demanded sharply. "Every citizen of Atlantis knows that there is a curfew tonight. We are under attack. Can you not hear the horns?"

"He was on the edge of the industrial area, Sir," the guard holding Pythagoras' arm said. "I think he was planning on looting one of the warehouses."

"With no equipment to help him break in and nothing to carry any goods away in?" the leader said dryly. "I don't think he'd get very far like that."

"Well maybe he was a lookout then," the first guard answered doggedly, giving Pythagoras a little shake.

"I was not planning on looting anything," Pythagoras answered, finally finding his voice.

"So what were you doing then?" the leader asked with a raised eyebrow. "Give me one good reason why I should not have you carted off to the cells on the spot."

"Well… that is… erm…" Pythagoras stammered, trying to come up with a coherent explanation on the spur of the moment. He was usually better at coming up with excuses than this, he chided himself; had become fairly adept at thinking on his feet. But right now he was cold and tired and more than a little rattled at the way his evening was going.

At the other end of the patrol, Hercules bit back a groan. The troop leader was clearly sympathetic with his cause and willing to help as long as he got permission from the King and they had been heading to the Palace at a reasonable speed. Any delay now could be disastrous for little Castianiera and the burly wrestler found himself cursing whatever imbecile had been caught out on the streets after curfew and was now holding them up. Then he stiffened. He knew that voice. Stifling a curse, he forced his way through the troop, eliciting several hard looks from the guards – looks that carried the promise of retribution if their officer were not there to prevent it – and came to stand beside the grim faced soldier.

"Pythagoras?" he said incredulously. "What in the name of the Gods are you doing here?"

Pythagoras gulped at the expression on his older friend's face. Hercules appeared to be fuming.

"You know him?" the squad leader asked, turning towards Hercules.

"He's my friend," Hercules admitted, "We share a house. He's been ill though… had the fever… and he's _supposed_ to be at home right now not out in the streets on a night as cold as this." He looked hard at Pythagoras.

"Well you see… erm… Jason…" He didn't need to go any further.

Hercules' face hardened even more.

"Where is he?" he demanded forcefully.

"We sort of got separated," Pythagoras admitted. "I think he has gone after the slavers alone."

Hercules began to swear sulphurously.

"How could he be so stupid?" he flared. "How is anyone supposed to protect someone so hell bent on his own destruction?"

"Hercules, please…" Pythagoras said reasonably. "Jason is not suicidal and you know it. He could not sit idly by while Cassie is in danger. You must have known that."

"I'd hoped his common sense would have told him that he was not fit enough to be running around," Hercules growled.

Pythagoras looked at him incredulously.

"Common sense?" he asked. " _Jason_? He stole sacrificial meat from Hekate's shrine and went off to face Circe alone… I am not sure that common sense is necessarily one of his strong points… Besides, with his history he was never going to be able to look at the situation rationally."

Hercules sighed.

"You're right," he admitted. "I should have let him come with me in the first place… at least then I could have kept an eye on him."

A pointed clearing of the throat made them both turn to face the patrol leader.

"We must be off," he said. "If we are to have any hope of discovering what has happened to your friend's daughter then I must make a report to the King and obtain permission to leave my duties."

Pythagoras looked surprised.

"You will help us?" he asked.

"If my King permits it," the soldier answered.

"Come on," Hercules said testily, grabbing Pythagoras' arm and beginning to drag him along, "we need to get going."

"But I think I know where Cassie is," Pythagoras protested.

Both Hercules and the patrol leader stopped dead and turned to face the mathematician.

"What?" Hercules demanded. "Where is she then?"

"Well, when I say I know where she is… I mean I know which direction she was taken in and…"

"Pythagoras," Hercules growled. "Talk, don't babble."

"Jason and I were searching one of the alleys leading from the agora… the one we had seen you and Talos come from… and he said something about Cassie screaming and I realised that she could not have been taken back through the agora; could not have been taken anywhere near houses because someone might have seen. So they must have taken her into the industrial district where there would be no people… and it could not be too far away because they could not risk running into a patrol. We went further down the alley and I found a scrap of the blanket that they had used to wrap Cassie in snagged on a nail on the wall. It was a fresh tear – there had been no time for the edges to become dirty. We walked on into the next street – I swear we were only going to see if there were any more clues as to where they had taken her and then come to find you. Even Jason acknowledged that with his knee so badly injured he should not be attempting to fight. There was a noise behind us and Jason pulled me into a doorway. Two men came past and they were laughing and joking about a golden haired child they had just taken and were talking about how much she would sell for. They mentioned the brothels of Athens and what a price she would fetch in them and then they said that it was a shame that they had been unable to capture any boys…" Pythagoras trailed off.

Hercules gritted his teeth. He looked up to see the grim faced soldier watching them – his face grimmer than ever.

"Go on," he said impatiently.

"Jason… he did not react well," the young genius admitted. "If I had not been there I think he would have attacked them on the spot. As it was he jumped out and raced off after them. I tried to keep up but I got out of breath and had to stop for a moment. By the time I rounded the corner Jason had gone…"

"He can barely walk on that leg," Hercules protested.

"I know," Pythagoras answered. "But you would not have thought so if you had seen him tonight. There was pain in his eyes but he was not letting it show in any other way… and now he is out there looking for a band of slavers; alone, with an injury that is far from properly healed and without even his cloak to keep him warm. We do not know how many are in this band of slavers… Hercules we have to find him!"

Hercules closed his eyes for a moment. He desperately wanted to head off in search of his wayward young friend at the moment but his chances of doing that seemed almost non-existent. The leader of the patrol was polite and sensible enough but he did not seem the sort to disobey his orders, which meant that until they had got approval from the King he would not even consider a search for Cassie.

"Show me where you lost your friend," the deep voice of the patrol leader demanded.

"I thought we were going to get the approval of the King," Hercules said, surprised beyond belief that this man who he had taken to be a stickler for orders would go against them now.

"The situation has changed and I must use my judgement," the soldier said. "You say your friend is injured but has followed the slavers anyway," he turned back to Pythagoras.

"Yes," the mathematician admitted. "Jason badly injured his knee a week ago. But he promised Talos that we would find Cassie and I have never known him to go back on his word."

The soldier squinted back down the Sacred Way towards the agora and then turned to look appraisingly at both Pythagoras and Talos. Without a word he moved back towards the patrol and grabbed a bow and quiver from the shoulder of one of his men and a long knife from the belt of another. The bow he presented to the startled mathematician and the knife to the merchant.

"I will not have anyone unable to defend himself," he stated firmly. "Now show me where you lost your friend."

* * *

The streets leading from the agora into the heart of the industrial areas of Atlantis felt much safer and much less empty now that Pythagoras had people with him – even if those people _were_ city guards. It went against the grain somehow to be trusting a group of guards when he had spent much of the last year either evading or on the odd occasion fighting them. There was something solid and reassuring about the leader of this particular group of guards, however, and Pythagoras found himself almost automatically trusting and liking the man. There was a quiet competence about him; an air of command – and yet he clearly believed in fair play and was intelligent and perceptive. The young mathematician decided to test the waters further. He moved forwards in the group until he was walking beside the man.

"Why are you helping us?" he asked.

The soldier turned to look at him with what could only be described as a half-smile.

"I have been a soldier of Atlantis all my adult life," he said softly. "I love this city. I have been away for many years protecting the borders and have only recently returned. The thought that anyone would do this in _my_ city… that there are people in this city who would take advantage of children in that way… I cannot accept it. It cannot be allowed to continue. I know without doubt that if this matter was brought to the King's attention he would order me to find the culprits. His Majesty may be many things but he is a good father and does try to be a good king."

"You speak as one who knows him," Pythagoras murmured, peering about himself as he walked hoping to see some sign that Jason had passed that way.

"I have an acquaintance with the King," the soldier admitted. "It has been my honour to serve him."

"I met a man before who said much the same," Pythagoras said lightly. "He was the Captain of the Guard and one of the most loyal and honest men I ever met."

"Ramos," the patrol leader murmured. "We knew each other for many years. He was a friend. I was saddened to learn of his death."

"I'm Pythagoras by the way."

"Dion," the soldier answered. He looked quizzically at the young genius. "Do you always talk this much?"

"Only when he's nervous," Hercules grumbled from further back.

They came to a junction. The street that joined to the one they were on ran in both directions.

"Which way?" Hercules mused.

Pythagoras looked both ways carefully.

"Left," he said after a moment.

"How can you possibly know that?" Hercules grumbled. "You're just guessing."

"To the right the ground is undisturbed. There are crates stacked in neat piles. Nothing is out of place," Pythagoras said patiently. "To the left there are also crates but you will notice that more than one stack has been knocked over as though someone ran through at speed and knocked into them – perhaps because he was not as steady as he would like. The ground has been disturbed… and then there is this…" he moved down the street and picked up a small item, coming back to the others and holding it up triumphantly. "It is one of the metal decorations from Jason's belt. I noticed it was loose the other day. I must reattach it properly for him." He frowned slightly at the last thought.

"Pray that you get the chance," Dion remarked. He looked at his men. "This way," he commanded.

The group marched on. Turning another corner they came into a long street with doors lining either side. Warehouses Pythagoras surmised. He was growing very tired now, much as he hated to admit it, and his chest felt tight, a cough threatening to bubble up from his lungs and take his breath away. Periodically he felt Hercules' eyes on him but could not bring himself to meet his old friend's gaze. Somehow he had the suspicion that once this night was over and Cassie was safe, the burly wrestler would be insisting that he spent at least the next day and possibly two in bed and that he would be confined to the house for the foreseeable future. He had a sneaking suspicion that the same fate would await Jason when they finally found him – and that the two of them were probably in for a serious scolding. He wasn't sure that he would do anything different if he had the chance again though – and was absolutely certain that Jason wouldn't.

But where was Jason? So far there had been little sign of him and they could hardly wander through the streets of Atlantis all night. Pythagoras worried at his lip anxiously. What if Jason had already been caught by the slavers? Or worse. He could be lying somewhere injured and they would not know about it.

As they walked down the street, the inevitable happened and Pythagoras, lost in his own increasingly worried and dark thoughts, tripped over his own feet. With reflexes more reminiscent of Jason than himself Hercules reached out and caught the young man before he could fall. Before he could make a sarcastic comment about Pythagoras' clumsiness, however, he realised that the lad was staring at something over his big friend's shoulder, his mouth hanging open in surprise.

"What is it?" Hercules demanded.

"I think I've just found Jason," Pythagoras gasped a little breathlessly.

"How?" Hercules growled. "I don't see him."

"Look at the door, Hercules," the young man murmured, righting himself and standing up straight.

Hercules looked at it blankly.

"It's a door," he said.

"Yes," Pythagoras answered patiently, "but looked at what is scratched onto it… it is a triangle."

Hercules peered at it.

"So?"

"Jason knows I will follow him. I believe he has left it as a sign for me."

"Pythagoras those scratches could have come from anywhere. They could have been made months ago," Hercules objected.

"I do not believe so. The scratches are fresh… they have not had time to become dirty yet. Besides, look at what is inside the triangle…" Pythagoras stated.

"It's a blob," Hercules answered.

"It is a pie Hercules."

Hercules peered at the door again.

"Maybe," he agreed grudgingly. "It's a bit wonky though."

"I do not think that Jason would have had time to worry about the artistic merits," Pythagoras retorted crisply. "Nevertheless I believe that he has left it for us to indicate that he is inside."

"You are sure of this?" Dion asked.

"Yes," Pythagoras answered confidently.

"Very well," the big soldier said. "It is worth checking if nothing else."

He reached for the door latch and pushed it open. The door gave beneath his hand with no sign of having been locked. Pythagoras was more convinced than ever that they were in the right place. After all who left a warehouse unlocked when there were thieves and other undesirables around?

The patrol stepped through the door into the darkened space beyond. As they waited to allow their eyes to adjust to the lower level of light a figure stepped out of the shadows. Dion's sword was instantly in his hand.

"Who's there?" he demanded. "Show yourself in the name of the King."

The figure moved closer. It was still cast in deep shadows but the faint light coming from the still open doorway glinted off the weapon that it held.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Thank you so much for the lovely reviews. You've all inspired me so much that I've managed to get the chapter out a day early! I just hope it doesn't disappoint.
> 
> Please don't forget to review - if you feel like reviewing that is ;-)

Pythagoras gulped as the figure stepped forwards and gripped the shaft of his bow a little more tightly. Perhaps he should think about drawing an arrow? All around him the guards began to unsheathe their swords and he could feel Hercules behind him preparing for action. Without a word the big man stepped around his young friend, his sword in his hand, preparing to defend Pythagoras. In all honesty the young genius appreciated the sentiment but couldn't help feeling that as he had the only ranged weapon in the group perhaps Hercules ought not to get in the way of what was essentially their first line of defence. That thought made him pause. Since when had he been anyone's first line of defence? He was a mathematician and a sometime philosopher and healer not a warrior. His life really had changed in so many ways since Jason had come crashing so unexpectedly in through the window – was much more dangerous and yet much more exciting. At least he could say he had lived now; at least he had personal experiences to draw on and his knowledge of healing and of wound care in emergency situations had increased exponentially.

He shook himself, reminding himself to keep his mind on the task at hand and not let it wander. The figure in the shadows stepped even closer. As it did a shaft of moonlight from the still open doorway glanced off brown curls and bright, alert dark eyes.

"Jason," Pythagoras breathed in relief.

Jason drew close, motioning them all to keep quiet and looked over his shoulder at the stairs beyond. Then he grinned at Pythagoras, an unexpected flicker of happiness in the grim situation they once again found themselves in. Pythagoras couldn't restrain his own brief smile of relief. Then Jason's smile dropped. He looked at Dion through narrowed and wary eyes. Pythagoras couldn't really blame him – his interactions with the city guards had not until now been entirely friendly.

"They are here to help," the young genius said softly.

Jason nodded.

"Fair enough," he murmured. "We need to move quietly. The kidnappers are in a room downstairs and there are a lot of them. I counted at least ten but I could only see a fraction of the room from where I was hidden and there were definitely more voices from men that I couldn't see. Once we get down the stairs there's a corridor. The room is about halfway along but there's a torch on the wall right outside. Beyond that the corridor splits in two. The children are in a room down the left fork. The corridor carries on beyond but I didn't stop to see where it went. There are between fifteen and twenty children in the room – all girls. The youngest can only be two or three and the oldest about thirteen… and yes Cassie is with them," he added looking at Talos. "They're all very scared and the youngest ones are going to need to be carried… so getting out of here in a hurry might be a bit difficult."

"Can we take the men in the room by surprise?" Dion asked.

"Possibly," Jason answered. "If we can be quiet enough coming down the corridor. They seem to be having a party in there so they're making a fair bit of noise. We'll need to keep to the shadows as much as possible but unless one of them needs to come out to relieve himself we should be able to get right up near the door before they know we're here."

"What do you mean we?" Hercules growled. "You're going to stay up here with him where it's relatively safe," he added, nodding at Pythagoras.

"Not a chance," Jason hissed firmly. "I gave my word that I would go back for the girls and I am not going to break it."

Before Hercules could say another word or make a move to grab him Jason slipped away towards the top of the stairs, beckoning the rest of them to follow him. Hercules swore softly and headed after him. Pythagoras winced. Jason was not helping to improve the burly wrestler's temper in any way – although Hercules really should have known better than to think that Jason would simply do as he was told and sit this one out; it wasn't in his nature. The mathematician didn't much fancy being left up here while everyone else went down to take on the slavers either – especially not on his own. Something might go wrong and he would never know. No, the three of them were a team and would go into this together no matter what Hercules thought. He tagged onto the back of the group as they made their way over to the archway.

At the top of the stairs Jason hesitated. Much as he was unwilling to admit it the walk up them had been pure torture and he had the feeling that the journey back down would be even worse. He'd promised Amathea and the other girls that he would be back to rescue them though and he wasn't about to let them down. It would be better if his leg wasn't hurting quite so badly he decided. What had started as a vague throbbing and a slight stiffness in his knee joint had morphed into constant screaming pain that had grown worse as he climbed the stairs. It had been all he could do to stop himself from limping as he walked across the floor to join the others and he really wasn't looking forward to the trip back down the stairs. He swallowed hard and moved forwards again, hoping that no-one had noticed the pause or worked out the reason behind it (although he wouldn't put it past Pythagoras to have worked out the truth – his friend was simply too observant).

By the time he reached the bottom Jason wanted to scream. He stopped, bracing himself against the wall with one hand, and gulped down some breaths of air – his breathing coming more heavily than he would have liked. He felt a strong hand touching his arm and looked up to see Dion unclasp a flask and shove it under his nose. The water inside was lukewarm and stale but it seemed to help him to regain some balance and allowed him to pause while the ball of fire that formed his knee settled back to the constant ache he had become used to. He handed the water bottle back to the large soldier and mouthed his thanks.

Before anyone could suggest that perhaps he ought to wait where he was Jason set off again, keeping to the shadows along the wall in much the same way that he had done before. As the group approached the doorway he paused, holding a hand up to bid the guards to be still, and crept closer, ducking down behind the barrel once again. He was quickly joined by both Dion and Hercules – although there really wasn't enough room for them all. He peered around the barrel and into the room. The men in the room were full of raucous cheer and appeared to be well into their cups. Jason half smiled. That would work to the advantage of the rescue party. Drunken men were rarely able to co-ordinate their movements enough to work together as a team. If they were hit hard enough and fast enough it would be every man for himself. The only thing that needed to be guarded against was that some of them might try to make a break for the girls – to effectively use them as bargaining chips or human shields. That wasn't going to happen, he thought grimly.

Pulling back around the barrel he found himself face to face with a worried and angry looking Hercules. Jason bit his lip. He really didn't have time for the big man to launch into a lecture right now. Fortunately it appeared that Hercules well understood the gravity of the situation and was not about to start scolding. As Dion took his turn at assessing their position, the burly wrestler caught hold of his younger friend's shoulders and peered into his face.

"We'll talk about this insanity later," he murmured, his voice a soft rumble. "Don't take unnecessary risks though, alright? I know you're going to do this no matter what I say but try not to let yourself get hurt this time."

Jason nodded tightly, glad that Hercules had put off the inevitable lecture until the children were safe. Hercules' eyes tightened as he pushed up his Jason's sleeves and took in the scrapes and fresh marks that would darken into bruises over the next couple of days that decorated his young friend's arms. Where Jason had picked them up from the Gods only knew but Hercules intended to find out. All he really wanted right now was to finish what they had come here to do and then get home where Pythagoras could be put to bed to rest and Jason could be checked over for additional injuries and then bundled off to join his friend. The big man hadn't failed to notice how long it had taken Jason to get down the stairs or that he had had to stop at the bottom for a time, and realised that the young man had been overexerting himself to the point where his knee would be extremely painful. Hopefully that would settle with rest once he had his feet up and equally hopefully he had not made the injury any worse.

Hercules also couldn't fail to notice just how cold the lad felt beneath his hands – the faint trembling as he shivered slightly. This really was not the weather to be running around the streets without a cloak. No doubt Jason had forgotten it and while he had been running it had not been a problem. Now, however, he had clearly been waiting in the darkness for his friends to arrive for some time; keeping watch over the slavers. That meant he had been standing still in the darkness and after his earlier exertion it had left him chilled through – although he himself was still so caught up in the situation that he had yet to notice just how cold he had become. Yes, getting him home and bundled up into a nice warm bed with a good fire going to prevent him from catching a chill was a very good idea to Hercules' mind. There was no point voicing it to Jason at the moment though. The look of grim determination on the young man's face told Hercules that it would not be well received and probably sharply rebuffed.

Dion ducked back around the barrel and motioned to them both to come with him to re-join his men. Quietly they pulled back towards the bottom of the stairs where the patrol leader could outline what he intended to do.

"We are going to hit them hard and fast," he murmured urgently. "They are so far into their cups that with luck we should have most of them subdued before they know what has hit them. We'll split into two and take half the room each. That way we should manage without falling over one another. Now we don't know exactly how many we'll be facing and it may be that there are more of them than there are of us, but we have the advantage of training and surprise. I want as many of them alive as we can to bring before the King but if that's not possible then I'm not going to lose a great deal of sleep over it. Whatever you have to do to capture them do it. I don't want anyone taking unnecessary risks." He turned towards Jason. "If it looks like any of them might get past us then it's your job to get those girls to safety," he said. "You and your friends' first priority is those children. Do you understand?"

"Of course," Jason answered tightly.

"Good," Dion said. "Now before we go on your friends have told me that you are injured. Is that going to be a problem?"

"No," Jason answered. "I'm fine."

He was very aware of the incredulous looks he was getting from both Hercules and Pythagoras at that moment. Clearly neither one of them believed that he was really as fine as he was claiming to be and each resolved to keep as close an eye as possible on him until they were all safely back home. Jason sighed under his breath. It was nice to have friends who cared so much about his wellbeing, particularly given the fact that so few people had ever actually cared, but he did think that they made far too much fuss at times.

Dion looked at him sceptically with his eyebrows raised. Jason looked back steadily.

"Are you sure?" the big soldier asked. "If it is likely to be a problem I need to know now. I do not mean to sound harsh but I do not need to be worrying about you in the middle of a battle."

"Indeed," Jason answered. "You do not need to worry about me. I am more than capable of finishing this and I can look after myself."

"Alright," Dion growled. "Then we go now."

The suddenness of the attack took the slavers completely by surprise, much as Dion had intended. There were indeed far more of them than either he or Jason had been able to see from outside the doorway – between twenty and twenty-five at best guess – and the city guards and their allies were outnumbered by more than two to one. No-one really had time to count the number of opponents, however. By the time they had rushed into the room and fallen upon the kidnappers they were all too intent on the job to stop and count heads. Many of the slavers were fortunately too drunk to stand, but those that were left quickly rallied and began to form a defence. Their sheer advantage of numbers began to slow down the attack.

Separated from the main group of guards, Jason found himself fighting back to back with Hercules, surrounded and outnumbered by a pocket of the criminals. The feeling of déjà-vu assaulted him again and almost took his breath away even as he parried another stroke from the hard faced kidnapper he was facing. Then the fighting grew too intense and all thought was driven from his mind and he fought on, relying on instinct and practice to know what the next move his opponent made would be. He was tiring rapidly though and could feel it – and his recent injuries meant that his movements were far less fluid than usual. Still they were nearly through the group and on the verge of joining up with Pythagoras, Talos and Dion.

Then the inevitable happened. One of the slavers, reeling from a blow, kicked out brutally as he fell and caught the side of Jason's knee. It had been a desperate move on the part of the slaver, an act borne of panic rather than thought, and he had no way of anticipating just how successful it would be; no way of knowing that he was actually targeting his young opponent's biggest weakness at the moment. Jason cried out sharply as white hot agony exploded in his leg and he fell as his knee gave way. Still moving on instinct he rolled to one side and narrowly avoided a downward stroke from the man above him. Now though he was trapped, caught in a tangle of felled bodies. It seemed that the next blow would inevitably hit him.

Hercules roared in anger. He had seen Jason go down and was trying to reach him but a couple of the slavers stepped in between them, preventing him from getting to his friend. With a horrified, sinking feeling he realised that there was no way he could get there in time but still redoubled his efforts. He could not let one of his boys down like this; he could not stand by and see one of them hurt or killed in this skirmish.

On the floor, Jason looked up to see another downward sword cut heading his way. The pain in his knee had begun to subside again but there was still no way he could get out of the way in time – there was simply no room to manoeuvre. Then the slaver's sword was deflected as it hit another outstretched sword, thrust out just in time. Who knew where Pythagoras had found the sword from or how he had managed to get there in time, but he had – although he looked more startled at the fact than his opponent did. With a shout Dion dived in from the one side and took on the man whose sword Pythagoras had managed to parry while Hercules attacked from the other, still roaring and swinging his own sword like a meat cleaver. Pythagoras turned breathlessly and offered his hand to Jason, pulling his friend to his feet. Jason held onto his arm for a minute even after he had stood up, biting down on the flare of pain he felt and struggling to regain his balance. Once he was sure he could stand on his own he let Pythagoras' arm drop and reached down for his sword.

Opponents defeated for the time being, Dion turned to the two young men. He looked hard at Jason.

"Are you hurt?" he asked.

"Just winded," replied Jason. He spun and fended off another attacker, blocking and thrusting neatly. "He took me by surprise... I'll be alright."

Dion easily fended off his own man, clobbering him on the back of the head with the butt of his sword and watching clinically as he fell to the floor insensible.

"For someone who I am told has a badly injured knee you fight very well," he said. "I would like to see you fight someday when you are not hampered by injury."

Jason looked at him quizzically.

"Thanks… I think," he responded.

Dion half smiled. He turned and swept the room with a glance, assessing the situation.

"There are more of them than I had hoped. We must fall back to the corridor where the confined space will work to our advantage. You must get to the children. You must get them out of here. We will regroup in the street once this is all over."

Jason nodded and started for the door, pushing Pythagoras and Talos ahead of him. In the doorway Dion turned.

"On me!" he roared.

It appeared that this particular group of city guards were both better trained and more disciplined than was their norm, Jason was pleased to note. To a man they came to join their leader, reforming in the corridor to take on another attack from the rapidly dwindling group of slavers.

"Hercules," Jason called urgently, beckoning for his older friend to join himself, Pythagoras and Talos behind the guards. "We have to get the girls to safety," he explained when the big man had joined them.

Hercules nodded and the four of them set off down the corridor in the opposite direction to the stairs. It was getting harder for Jason to hide the fact that his leg was hurting badly but he gritted his teeth and moved on as fluidly as he could. Without hesitation he led his friends and Cassie's worried father down the left hand fork in the corridor to the room where he had found the girls before. At the door he paused for a minute and then knocked gently, reasoning that Amathea at least would realise that their kidnappers would not knock – at least in part because they would still believe that the girls were caged.

The door opened a crack and a pair of large eyes peered out at him. Then it swung open fully and Jason slipped into the room. The children were huddled at the back of the room, the older ones trying to comfort the younger. The cages still stood at the sides, their doors now hanging open. Jason could feel the horror coming off his friends in waves. Having been here earlier and seen the worst of the situation he was a little more prepared this time. His friends were not. Pythagoras in particular seemed appalled by what he was seeing, his blue eyes bright and watery.

Amathea came forwards and smiled softly at Jason, offering him his hunting knife back.

"You came back," she said.

"I promised you I would," Jason answered, tucking the knife back into his belt.

"Are these your friends?"

"Yes," Jason responded. "The older one is Hercules and the skinny one is Pythagoras… and the other one is Cassie's father, Talos."

Cassie herself had by this time spotted her father and had launched herself across the room and into his arms, where he was holding her as though his life depended on it – pulling back occasionally to check that she really was unharmed and alright.

"There are city guards outside fighting with the men who took you," Jason went on. "We need to get you all out of here now and then we'll see about getting you all back to your parents, alright?"

"Yes," answered Amathea, smiling.

"I'll need your help to move them all though."

The young girl nodded and drew herself up to her full height, straightening the filthy dress that hung from her thin frame as best she could and setting her face with a determined expression.

"Let's go then," she said.

They slipped back out into the corridor, the youngest girls being carried by the four men and the older children gripping the younger ones hands. From the direction of the stairs the noise of battle was drawing inexorably closer and the four adults of the group shared a concerned look.

"We can't go back that way," Hercules said.

Jason nodded and started off down the corridor, a trusting little soul of no more than three held in his arms, playing with his necklace.

"You don't know what's down there," Pythagoras protested. "You don't even know if there is a way out that way. We could end up being caught in a dead end; trapped."

"It can't be worse than trying to take these little girls through the middle of a battle," Hercules argued.

Jason tuned them out. Something was pulling him onwards. A feeling of rightness that he could in no way explain. Although there were no torches or lanterns down here he could almost see a golden glow ahead of him, sparkling and drawing him on. Up ahead the corridor split into two again. Without hesitation Jason took the right hand option, picking up speed as he went. A hand caught hold of his sleeve and forced him to halt. He turned to see Pythagoras staring at him in exasperation.

"We cannot simply run on without knowing where we are going," the mathematician stated.

"We are going the right way," Jason insisted.

"You cannot know that. You said yourself that you had not had time to explore the corridor beyond the room where the girls were held. We must tread cautiously. We should examine both options before we decide on a course."

"This _is_ the right path," Jason answered, his eyes distant. He turned and looked down the left hand fork with a shudder. There was a feeling of wrongness about it; a darkness that he had no wish to explore.

"How can you possibly know that?" Pythagoras asked.

Jason hesitated. He didn't know _how_ he knew and therefore had no way of explaining himself. It sounded crazy even to his own ears and he could only imagine what his friends would make of the fact that he was choosing a direction by what felt right. They would probably think that he had cracked again, he decided, and he would hardly be able to blame them. Perhaps he had; perhaps he'd flipped over the edge. All he really knew was that he was being pulled forwards by something – and that something was coming from within himself. To be honest it was all a bit terrifying. Seeing Cassie in that cage – fighting back to back with Hercules as they were surrounded – he had seen it before; had seen it almost exactly as it had happened in his dreams last night. The more he thought about it the more his breath caught in the back of his throat and he really couldn't afford the time to think about this now. He could have a meltdown later once the girls were safe.

"Do you trust me?" he asked Pythagoras.

"Of course," the blonde mathematician responded.

"Then trust me now… please," Jason almost begged. "I can't explain how I know that this is the right way… I just do."

"We don't have time for this," Hercules griped from his position at the back of the group. "Whichever way we're going we need to go now."

Pythagoras looked earnestly at Jason and nodded. Jason smiled gratefully and plunged off down the corridor again. At the end of the passageway a metal gateway barred their way. Through the bars they could see the street. They were nearly free but although the bars were fairly widely spaced it seemed unlikely that they would all fit through.

"Are we all going to fit through there?" Pythagoras asked, eyeing Hercules' bulk apprehensively.

The burly wrestler sighed dramatically and set the small child he was carrying down on her own feet for a few minutes.

"Out of my way," he declared. Grabbing hold of two of the bars he heaved against them, using his immense strength to bend them out of shape and forming a hole they could all fit through.

"Wide enough for you?" he asked Pythagoras sarcastically.

"It was never too narrow for me," the young genius answered primly as he stepped through.

Once they were all through the gap they moved away a little from the gateway and stopped. Pythagoras looked around nervously, half expecting the slavers to pop out of the darkness and attack them.

"Where do we go now?" he asked.

"To the Temple," a deep voice murmured behind them.

Startled they turned to see Dion stepping through the gap in the gateway.

"The slavers have been subdued," he stated. "Those that are still alive are confined. I have left most of my men to guard them and dispatched another to fetch reinforcements. They will face judgement before the King. Justice will be done."

Jason had a feeling that he knew exactly what that 'justice' would entail. He almost felt sorry for the slavers, no matter what they had done. He tried to suppress a shudder, knowing that there was simply no point voicing an opinion on the fairness or lack of it in the Atlantian justice system – no-one here seemed to understand his feelings. Even Pythagoras thought that the system was reasonable and the sentences just. He looked up to see Dion watching him shrewdly.

"You do not approve," the big soldier said flatly.

"Jason has difficulty accepting capital punishment," Pythagoras interjected. "Apparently they do not use it where he comes from."

"It doesn't really matter," Jason said hurriedly. "There's nothing I can do to change things anyway… Besides we need to be concentrating on what we do next."

"As I said, we will go to the Temple," Dion answered firmly.

"And why would we want to go there?" Hercules asked suspiciously. No matter how helpful the patrol leader had been he _was_ still a member of the city guards and therefore someone to be wary of.

"Many of the refugees are housed in the Temple. If you wish to find the families of the children then your best chance will be to search for them there. Prymneus and I will escort you there and then I must report this matter to the King at the Palace. You will spend the night at the Temple and return to your home in the morning."

Hercules glared at him.

"Absolutely not!" he flared. "We'll be going home tonight. He's been ill and he's still injured," he stated pointing to his two younger friends, "and they could both do with a good night's sleep in their own beds. If you think I'm going to let you keep them from them then you've got another thing coming."

"You have no choice," Dion said, his tone hardening. "The city is still under curfew and I cannot allow you to be wandering the streets without an escort. We are still under attack at the moment and unless you are part of the defence on the walls you do not have permission to be out of doors. I cannot spare the time or the men to escort you to your own home tonight and if you should try to leave unescorted I will reluctantly be forced to arrest you."

"Arrest us?" Hercules yelled. "After what we've done tonight? There's gratitude for you!"

"Hercules," Jason interjected sharply. "It's fine. Let's get the girls to safety and hopefully back with their families and we can sort out the rest afterwards."

Hercules looked at his friend with a frown. He couldn't help but notice how tired Jason looked right now – how tired both the boys looked actually. Jason hadn't slept well last night, he reminded himself, and combined with this evening's activity it was clearly catching up with him. The burly wrestler sighed. He had hoped that there would be a way of resolving all this quickly so that he could get his friends back home where they belonged. He would even have been willing to forgo the discussion that he wanted to have with both his friends over their behaviour tonight in favour of letting them both get some decent rest and tackling them in the morning.

"Fine," he muttered. "But don't think that this is the end of it," he added, pointing a meaty finger at Dion.

To do him credit the soldier did not say a word. He simply returned Hercules' gaze steadily with an eyebrow raised. The truth of the matter was that he had no real wish to arrest anyone and understood that Hercules was acting out of worry for his friends, and he did appreciate that both of the younger men ought to be resting – they both looked almost ready to drop – but he had his duty and it was simply not safe to allow them to go wandering through the streets tonight. His was not the only patrol in the streets and he somehow doubted that many of his comrades would think twice about arresting any of this little band – or of sending them to fight on the city walls. Besides which there were looters around – desperate men who survived by stealing from others – and with the city walls under attack there was always the threat that that posed, with arrows raining down from above . At least the Amphigeneians had not yet managed to finish building any catapults and he silently thanked the Gods for that fact, knowing that the situation on the city could be so much worse right now. His companions would be far safer within the walls of the Temple tonight whether they realised it or not and at least it was warm there. Yes it might be true that they would be more comfortable in their own home but right now he was more interested in their safety than their comfort.

With a grunt Hercules adjusted the wide-eyed child on his hip and started to move in the direction of the Temple. Talos was still too caught up in the joy of having got Cassie back to be aware of the situation around him or the tensions within the group but the other two young men exchanged a long look. With Hercules in this sort of mood their chances of getting away without one of his well-meaning lectures seemed slim. Dion gestured to the guard that had come with him to follow the burly wrestler and then indicated to the others– both adults and children – to follow on behind, taking up his own position at the rear of the group. As one of the little girls began to drop back, her small legs rapidly becoming tired, he scooped her up without breaking stride and simply carried her on one arm. Ahead of him the other soldier, Prymneus, selected his own little girl to carry – picking the one who seemed smallest and most tired from the group.

Pythagoras watched them quizzically. It still seemed alien to him to see members of the city guard being helpful. He supposed that there _were_ reasonable men who joined up; were family men who were simply trying to do their best to protect their families and work for their city; it was just that he and his friends had always in the past seemed to encounter the petty minded bullies that seemed to be attracted to the job. Dion seemed more than reasonable, however. Everything he was insisting upon _was_ fair even if Hercules didn't particularly like it, and he _had_ trusted them – trusted that they were telling the truth – and had done everything in his power to help them based on that trust.

Then he turned to look at his friends. Hercules was clearly seething. Pythagoras winced. He had known that his older friend would be distinctly unhappy that both himself and Jason had chosen to leave the house this evening in spite of Hercules' feelings on the matter; had known that the big man would say that they had both endangered their health and would be cross as a result. In a way he did agree that Hercules had a point. Neither one of them was operating at full strength and the burly wrestler really hadn't needed the added distraction of worrying about them when he needed to look for Cassie. Without them though Cassie might not have been found. It had taken the particular combination of Pythagoras' brains and Jason's pig-headedness to locate and save the girls. If it weren't for them Hercules would still have been at the Palace with Dion trying to convince the King to allow a rescue mission, and would then have ended up going in the wrong direction and searching in the wrong place. By the time he had realised his mistake Cassie and the other girls might have been lost forever. Pythagoras was fairly certain that in spite of his current ire Hercules could be made to see that with some well thought out arguments. All he would have to ensure was that Jason kept a lid on his temper for the duration of the conversation and would allow Pythagoras to take the lead in reasoning with Hercules. It would help if they both appeared suitably contrite when Hercules broached the subject, and perhaps had some wine on hand – that always helped to soothe their older friend's temper.

Pythagoras looked speculatively at Jason. All he had to do now was to convince his dark haired friend to let him do the talking and to do that he needed to broach the subject with Jason first. He frowned. Jason, it appeared, was losing himself inside his own head again; drifting off into that dream world he sometimes went to when he was upset or worried about something. Pythagoras had learned to spot the signs over the last couple of months – both he and Hercules had actually – and could usually work out what was causing it. The only thing was he'd never known Jason to drift when they were still in the middle of a potentially dangerous situation before.

As he watched, though, he realised that his dark haired friend was completely aware of what was going on around him; had not lost himself completely; was simply deep in thought. He avoided any obstacles in his path neatly enough and broke out of his reverie to quiet the little girl he was carrying down when she started to get upset. Perhaps this was a coping strategy, Pythagoras thought. He knew that Jason had to be in pain – after all he was still limping badly most of the time and needed to put his feet up in the evenings to stop his knee from swelling and seizing up. His leg might be healing now but he was far from back to normal yet and the pounding he had given it this evening would only have exacerbated the injury. Plus Pythagoras had seen that slaver kick Jason and knew that his friend had been in very real pain as a result. Yet right now you would never know that he was hurt. Jason was walking confidently and fluidly with only the slightest hesitation in his movements that told those who knew him best that something was wrong. So perhaps losing himself in thought was helping him to keep going until they were in a place where he could sit down and rest. Pythagoras decided to confirm his theory. He moved alongside Jason.

"Are you alright?" he asked softly.

Jason looked momentarily startled. He had been deep in thought and had not heard Pythagoras draw up to him.

"Yes," he answered. "My knee's a bit sore but I'll live. How about you?"

"I am tired," Pythagoras answered honestly. "Very tired."

"Yeah," Jason breathed. "Sleep sounds ridiculously good right now… do you think Hercules would mind if I had a lie in tomorrow?"

"A lie in what?" asked Pythagoras with some confusion.

"It means not getting up when you usually would… staying in bed later than normal," Jason explained.

"Ah," Pythagoras said. "In that case I do not think that Hercules will mind if either one of us has a 'lie in' tomorrow… in fact I think he will almost insist upon it."

Both young men chuckled lightly at their older friend's paternal and protective nature. Hercules could try to claim that he didn't worry about his friends all he liked but they both knew only too well just how much he fretted when either one of them seemed under the weather or unhappy. After a moment Jason looked at Pythagoras with a peculiarly sad smile.

"We did alright tonight didn't we?" he said softly. "Tonight we won."

"Yes we did," Pythagoras answered. "These children will be reunited with their families and the slavers are no longer a threat."

"This group anyway," Jason responded, his tone turning bitter.

Pythagoras frowned.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"We stopped this gang but there'll just be someone else that takes their place won't there? As long as there are people who are willing to buy children there'll be more like them."

"Jason you cannot think like that," Pythagoras said firmly. "Tonight we have done the right thing – done a good thing – and these girls are safe as a result."

"And what about the next child that a grown man takes a fancy to? Who'll be there to save them?"

"It is not that simple and you know it," Pythagoras answered, "but I do understand how you feel."

"Do you?"

"Yes." Pythagoras said sharply. "You identify with these girls because you see yourself in them… but you cannot save everyone no matter how hard you try… and you should not punish yourself because of it."

Jason gave him that funny little sad smile again.

"You're right," he said with a sigh. "I should be grateful that we managed to get to _these_ girls in time."

"Quite," Pythagoras said. "Now we have only to return them to their families and we can think of getting home and finding our own beds… and listening to Hercules scold of course."

He was rewarded by a snort and a rueful smile from his dark haired friend. Inwardly Pythagoras smiled. His mission had been accomplished – Jason had been diverted from the dark path his mind was beginning to wander down.

"We're probably not going home tonight though are we?" Jason pointed out. "I mean Dion said that wouldn't be allowed to."

"Since when have you done as you were told?" Pythagoras asked.

Jason thought for a moment.

"Good point," he said. "I don't know about you but I'm a bit too tired to argue this time though."

"Indeed," Pythagoras agreed with a yawn.

The yawn quickly became a short barking cough that robbed him of his breath. He felt a hand on the centre of his back and looked up to see Jason looking at him, his hazel eyes wide and worried. Ahead of them Hercules had also turned around and Pythagoras could almost feel his older friend's concern from here.

"Do not worry so much," he murmured. "It is just a cough – nothing more."

"I shouldn't have dragged you out tonight," Jason fretted guiltily. "You should be at home in the warm."

"You did not 'drag' me anywhere. I made my own decision to come… and it was as well that I did. How far do you think you would have got without me?"

"I'd have managed," Jason protested, although he couldn't help but smile.

They walked on in silence for a time, listening to the innocent chatter of the little girls around them. Pythagoras marvelled at how resilient they were. After all they had been through a horrible ordeal over the last few days and must have been terrified. Now, however, they played little games as they went along or chatted brightly in hushed voices, talking about their families and homes. It seemed a miracle that they had been rescued before anything more horrific had happened to them. The more that Pythagoras thought about it, however, the more questions sprang up in his mind. How had Jason known which way to go in the tunnels to bring them all to safety? And come to that how had he known which warehouse to search in the first place? Had he seen the slavers go in? If so, why had they not seen him? Pythagoras knew that Jason could keep himself concealed when he really wanted to but surely with the speed he was running at he would not have had time. It all seemed unbelievably lucky somehow and the young genius wasn't entirely sure he believed in that much good fortune happening at one time.

"Jason?" he said, casting a sidelong look at his friend. "How did you know that that tunnel would bring us out onto the street?"

"What do you mean?" Jason asked, the defensive, guarded look that Pythagoras hated springing up in his eyes once more.

"Before we went down the stairs you told us that you had not had time to explore the corridor beyond the room where the girls were held but when we had to go down it you seemed to know exactly where you were going."

"It was just a guess," Jason answered shortly.

Pythagoras frowned. He could usually tell when Jason was trying to evade the truth and everything told him that he was doing it now – although he couldn't for the life of him think why that might be the case. Surely Jason had nothing to hide here? With a start he realised that Dion had drawn up behind them and was listening intently, his blue eyes curious.

"You seemed so certain," Pythagoras said. "You asked me to trust you and said that you knew we were going the right way. That did not seem like a guess."

"I was lucky, that was all." Jason shut down all further discussion. "Come on let's move a bit faster. The quicker we can get to the Temple the better."

He sped up a little, pulling ahead of his blonde friend. Pythagoras couldn't help noticing, however, that Jason had begun to limp slightly once more. He frowned, knowing that that was a sign that Jason was hurting far more badly than he was willing to admit to; knowing that when the adrenaline from the evening finally wore off Jason was likely to crash hard. His friend had remarkable willpower and at times seemingly inexhaustible energy and stamina but Pythagoras knew only too well that Jason was far from being indestructible or indefatigable and sooner or later he _would_ need to stop. The fact that he had already admitted to being very tired indicated to the young genius that it was likely to be sooner rather than later.

When the Temple finally came into view everyone breathed a sigh of relief. Soon the children would be back with their families – or at least could be looked after properly until their families could be located. For a moment though Jason paused at the bottom of the long flight of steps, mustering up the energy and willpower he knew he would need to get to the top. He could feel both his friends watching him closely and stubbornly gritted his teeth, knowing that there was no way either of them could help him while they were carrying the smallest of the children. He hitched the little girl resting on his hip up a little higher and set off, taking one step at a time.

By the time he was halfway up he was sweating and breathing hard, and fighting a losing battle to hide the pain each step was costing him. He paused again, trying to get his breath back. The presence of a figure at his elbow made him half turn and he found himself face to face with Hercules once more. To do him credit the big man didn't say a word. He moved the little girl he was carrying around onto his right arm and simply held his left out for Jason. With a muttered but heartfelt expression of thanks the young man slipped his arm around his older friend's shoulders leaning heavily on Hercules, although his grip on the little girl he carried remained secure. It helped, he decided, that the child was so small and light. With a grunt and a nod Hercules gestured for them to move on, he left arm gently encircling his young friend's waist.

At the top of the steps Jason let his arm drop from around Hercules' shoulders and brought it back around the little girl once more.

"Thanks," he murmured again. "I'll be alright now… it was just the steps that were a bit of a problem."

Hercules raised an eyebrow and looked disapprovingly at him, but knew better than to try to argue. It would be a futile exercise anyway given Jason's stubborn and independent nature – once he had made his mind up there was rarely any changing it. With a final half smile at the burly wrestler Jason limped through the Temple doors, following Dion and Talos inside.

The Temple was more brightly lit than was usual at this time of night and bore more of a resemblance to a refugee camp or a field hospital than to a place of worship. Apart from the usual fire-pits, braziers had been dragged in to the enormous space and beds and bed rolls were set up between the giant pillars. There were people everywhere; talking; eating; sleeping. Doctors were treating wounded soldiers and priests and priestesses brought comfort to the dying.

"Amathea!" a voice rang out across the floor and a middle-aged couple wearing the plain but serviceable clothing of a farming family ran across to catch their daughter up in their arms, crying and laughing at the same time.

Then, suddenly it seemed, they were surrounded by people reclaiming their daughters and clamouring to know where the lost children had been found. Jason couldn't help but shrink back slightly from the throng. He had never exactly relished being the centre of attention and since his breakdown had tended to avoid crowds if he could. A warm hand started to massage the back of his neck gently and without turning around he knew that Hercules was at his back, silently providing support. Above the babble a familiar voice sounded. It was Cinyras the doctor who had visited their home several times over the last week or so. He pushed his way through the crowd and looked straight at Pythagoras.

"I would ask what you thought you were doing out on a cold night such as this with your chest still weak," he said, "but right now I'm so busy that I don't have time. I was told you have some knowledge of the healing arts."

"I do," Pythagoras confirmed.

"Good. Then I have a job for you. I've a soldier losing too much blood and I need someone to hold a tourniquet while I cauterise the wound. There's no-one else to help me so you'll do." The seedy looking doctor grabbed the young mathematician's wrist and dragged him back through the crowd, disappearing with him behind a pillar.

Once they were gone the crowd pressed around once again, all talking at once and shouting with joy that their daughters were once again by their sides. The child Jason was carrying was plucked from his arms to be carried away by her grateful mother, who clutched the young man's arm and insisted on kissing him and praying that the Gods would look favourably upon him before she went. Jason was beyond embarrassed, dropping his eyes and muttering shyly that it was nothing. That of course earned him another kiss from the woman much to his mortification and Hercules' amusement.

"What is going on here?" a voice boomed from across the floor of the Temple.

The crowd parted to reveal the King striding towards them with the Queen at his elbow. Minos' face was stern and unreadable. As he reached the edge of the throng he stopped and looked about himself imperiously.

"I asked a question," he said firmly, "and I require an answer."


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Thank you all once again for the lovely reviews and kind messages of support. I thought I'd get this chapter out extremely early this week to be in time for Christmas.
> 
> Anyway please enjoy this offering and don't forget to leave me a review...
> 
> Oh and Merry Christmas!

Hercules wanted to growl in frustration. Luck it seemed was really not on his side tonight. All he really wanted to do was to get the three of them home and make sure that both his young friends had a good night's rest and yet he was being hampered at every turn. First Dion had insisted that they were going to have to stay in the dratted Temple overnight and had indicated that he would arrest them if they tried to leave; then that seedy doctor had dragged Pythagoras off to help the wounded and goodness knows where they had got to (and persuading Pythagoras to leave the wounded and come and get some rest himself was going to be a challenge in itself); and now the King had arrived and was demanding a full explanation – and what the King wanted he _always_ got; one did not deny him if one valued one's life. Hercules had felt Jason's discomfort growing as the crowd of grateful parents had crushed around them and much as it had amused him it also worried him; the lad was beyond tired, overwrought and clearly in pain and under those circumstances could be all too easily overwhelmed. While the burly wrestler knew that his friend had largely got back to normal over the last two months he still couldn't help but worry that Jason was more fragile than he sometimes seemed. Those memories that had resurfaced and all the associated trauma that had gone with them were still very raw and inflamed and tonight's escapade was only likely to exacerbate that – touching as it did on the potential abuse of children. Plus Jason had been having what Pythagoras termed as a "dark" day even before Talos had burst in with the news of Cassie's kidnap. What he probably needed most right now was to find somewhere quiet where he could relax and calm down and be persuaded with careful prompting (not nagging – Hercules did _not_ nag) to open up. Both Hercules and Pythagoras' had realised over the last couple of months that allowing Jason to bottle his feelings up was potentially very destructive.

As the King reiterated his demand for an explanation, Hercules felt Jason shift his weight onto his good leg to take some of the pressure off his bad. He frowned. The sooner they could get this over and done with and he could get Jason to sit down and let himself be checked over the better for all of them. Barely perceptibly the dark haired lad swayed slightly. Shifting his weight onto his left leg might have helped with the pain in his knee but it took him off balance. Hercules moved in next to Jason's left side, close enough that he could slide his arm into place behind the lad, palm resting warmly in the small of Jason's back, providing a solid support that the young man could lean into without appearing too; helping Jason to keep his balance while allowing him to take a little more weight off his knee by leaning against his burly friend.

From her position at Minos' elbow Pasiphae's sharp eyes picked up this careful manoeuvring and frowned. Without appearing to take any particular interest in any of the people in front of her the Queen scrutinised her son. It was the closest she had been to him while they were both conscious since he was a tiny child and her heart leapt a little at the thought that he was almost within touching distance. Jason looked tired, she decided – very tired. Although she could see no obvious injuries he was clearly favouring one leg (though she doubted that many of those present would realise that) and the way his friend was hovering spoke of a deep rooted concern. This was a dangerous situation and was most definitely not the way in which she would wish her husband to meet his stepson. Events had moved outside her control, however, and with Minos determined to discover the identity of her son the best she could hope for was to make this as easy as possible. Her conversation with the Oracle had confirmed what she already knew – that her husband _was_ going to learn who Jason was soon – but even the Seer had been unable to tell her how Minos would react.

"General Dion," Minos commanded, "perhaps you would care to tell me why you are not inspecting the troops on the eastern wall as you were ordered."

Hercules and Jason exchanged a startled look and turned to stare at Dion in surprise. While they had both realised that he was some kind of officer neither one of them had expected him to hold such an exalted rank – although Hercules had had the suspicion that he was perhaps something more than a simple captain from the way in which he had effectively ordered his men to disregard their prior orders and take part in the mission to rescue the girls and the guards had simply followed him without question.

"Your Majesty," Dion began. "Over the last few days there have been incidents throughout the city where little girls have been going missing. They have been the daughters of some of the unfortunate people who have taken refuge in our great city in the face of the Amphigeneian army. I had received several reports which indicated that a band of slavers were operating within the city and were targeting the children of the refugee families in the belief that they would not be able to obtain official help to recover their lost offspring."

Minos scowled deeply.

"Slavers? In _my_ city?" he growled. "Why is this the first I have heard of the matter?"

"My Lord, I spoke to your chief advisor, Lord Kephalon, yesterday. He informed me that you were not to be disturbed with this matter; that with the Amphigeneian siege there were far more important considerations than a few lost little girls. He suggested that I should forget the matter and return to the duties he had assigned for me."

Pasiphae carefully schooled her expression into one of indifference but inside she was crowing. Kephalon had made many fundamental errors of judgement over the last few days (challenging her in front of the War Council had not been his finest hour) yet this was undoubtedly the worst and the one that might potentially lead to his downfall. One did not keep news from the King – especially news that impacted on the wellbeing of the people; Minos cared too much for his city and his people to ignore a matter like this. Beside her she felt her husband bristle, his eyes flashing fire. For all she would not mourn the loss of his chief advisor it was important that Minos' temper be diverted before the full impact of it could potentially fall on her son. Now was not the time for misunderstandings – not when she had so much at stake. She reached out one slim hand and placed it comfortingly on Minos' arm, smiling reassuringly as he turned to glance at her. The King's eyes softened as he looked at her and he patted her hand gently before turning back to the rapidly dwindling group in front of him. Many of the refugees who had been crowding around the men had taken the opportunity to grab their children and melt away while Minos had been looking at Pasiphae, none of them wanting to risk the wrath of the King falling on them even by mistake.

"I will speak with Lord Kephalon in the morning," the King promised, his tone frosty. "I am grateful to you for bringing this matter to my attention General Dion. It does not, however, explain to me what is going on now." He looked back at Dion with an eyebrow raised.

"I was leading a patrol to the Eastern Wall as instructed to inspect the troops and the defences there when the latest attack was sounded. Shortly afterwards we ran into these men here," Dion gestured towards Talos and Hercules. "It was long past curfew and I asked for an explanation of their presence on the street before I arrested them. They informed me that this man's daughter had been kidnapped by the slavers. They had attacked him in the street and taken his daughter from him. Apparently they had mistaken her for the child of a refugee although her father is in fact a citizen of Atlantis. I felt that they could be of some assistance in the recovery of the children and decided to return to the Palace to request an audience with Your Majesty to obtain permission to search for the kidnapped girls. As we passing along the Sacred Way we were stopped by a young man – a friend of these men… I believe he is currently assisting one of the doctor's with a wounded soldier. He informed me that he and this young man," he dropped a heavy hand onto Jason's shoulder, "had run across the slavers. This young man had given chase in spite of already being injured. I took the decision at that point to follow. I am aware that I was not strictly speaking following the orders I had been given but I felt that if Your Majesty had known the situation you would have approved of my actions and I did not feel that there was time to wait. We encountered the slavers in a warehouse in the industrial district. After a short fight those that survived were killed or apprehended. I have taken the liberty of sending a man for reinforcements to bring the survivors to the cells to await your judgement. This young man," he gestured to Jason again, "and his friends rescued the children and led them to safety. We brought them to the Temple as I believed that was the best place to find their parents and then I had planned to return to the Palace and make a full report."

Minos nodded thoughtfully.

"You have done well," he said firmly. He stepped forwards towards the group and stopped in front of Jason, looking hard at the young man.

"It would seem that our paths are perennially destined to cross," he stated. "You have made quite a mark on my city since you arrived here. I owe you my thanks once again."

"You owe me nothing, My Lord," Jason answered softly, ducking his head slightly.

Minos half smiled. A glint of gold caught his eye and he found himself staring at the necklace the young man before him wore. It bore the symbol of the Oracle. Perhaps the lad wore it in honour of the Seeress or perhaps he served Poseidon in some way. Yet somewhere within the King a memory stirred; a half forgotten image came to mind of a similar necklace being played with by a small child in the long distant past. He strove to remember where and when he had seen that necklace before and jerked his eyes up to the young man's face, wondering for the first time where the boy had appeared from.

"It is ironic perhaps that I know so little about you given how often you have stood before me," he murmured. "You arrive in my city, kill the Minotaur, leap the bulls, compete in the Pankration and save my daughter's life in just a few short months. You were at the centre of other… events… just two months ago…" Minos did not fail to notice the way Jason paled at the reference or the way the lad bit his lip unconsciously, and winced at his own lack of tact. "I am sorry," he apologised softly. "I did not mean to make you uncomfortable or stir up painful memories."

Pasiphae started. It was a rare thing for Minos to apologise to anyone much less a young man who to his eyes was nothing more than a peasant. It gave her hope that perhaps he had some level of respect for her son already.

"And now here you are again at the heart of this situation," the King went on. "Yet I do not even know your name."

"It's Jason, Your Majesty."

"Jason!" Minos made a sound that was half gasp and half bitter laugh. He flashed a look at his wife, taking in her rigid posture with a single glance before turning back to search the young face in front of him. His eyes narrowed before flickering with a light that could almost have been recognition. "Who are your parents, boy? Where do they come from?"

"My Father was from Atlantis," Jason answered softly. "I came here in search of him."

"And did you find him?"

"He's dead," Jason said shortly. "The Oracle confirmed it."

"What of your mother?" the King asked.

"She died shortly after I was born," Jason answered. "I know nothing of her beyond that."

"An orphaned young man named Jason, whose path keeps crossing my own… It appears that the Gods have a sense of humour after all," Minos murmured ironically, turning away.

Jason flicked a quick confused look at Hercules. The burly wrestler had gone pale although he clearly tried to rally at his younger friend's questioning glance.

"I must consult the Oracle," the King stated, half to himself. "There are aspects of this situation that must be explored carefully."

"We'll be on our way then, My Lord," Hercules interjected almost desperately. "You're busy and we've got a home to go to."

Minos turned back looking almost amused.

"You will not be returning to your home tonight," he said. "The curfew is still in force and I may have further… questions for you. No doubt a place can be found for you to sleep in the Temple tonight and in the morning I may require your services again."

Hercules gulped and nodded. It seemed that there was no way he could get his friends home tonight – he might have been able to get around Dion's restrictions (even if the man _was_ a general) but a direct instruction from the King could not be disobeyed.

As Minos began to stalk away, Pasiphae looked at her son for one last time, her eyes flickering briefly over him. As her gaze reached the floor at Jason's feet she stopped and looked again. There on the flagstones by his left foot was a small puddle of blood, not large enough to have issued from a serious wound but still there nevertheless. In spite of her determination to stay calm and aloof the Queen was across the floor in a few short steps, frowning darkly – her fear for her son's wellbeing overriding all else.

"You are bleeding," she pointed out sharply.

Jason looked down blankly at the floor for a moment before glancing at his own hands. He peered at the left one and then shrugged.

"I must have caught it on something," he muttered to himself.

"Let me see it," Pasiphae demanded, her tone imperious.

"It's just a scratch, My Lady" Jason protested.

"Show me the wound. I will not ask again," the Queen insisted.

Warily Jason turned his hand over to show the Queen his palm. There was a long cut running straight across the centre from one side to the other. Pasiphae inspected it carefully.

"You are right that it is not serious," she said. "However even the merest scratch can become infected if it is not cleaned and dressed properly."

"My friend Pythagoras will look at it later," Jason said quietly.

"Your friend appears to be far too busy with the wounded from the battle," Pasiphae answered sharply. "I have some knowledge of the healing arts. I will see to this myself."

Before Jason could protest any further she called for a passing servant.

"I require warm water and a cloth, some comfrey and a strip of clean linen for a bandage," Pasiphae instructed. She turned back to Jason. "Come, we may sit over there." She gestured towards the wide square base of a pillar set at a reasonable height for sitting on from the floor.

Jason watched her calmly but warily, his suspicion at her motives evident in his eyes; his gaze direct and challenging. Pasiphae suppressed the urge to sigh. He has no reason to trust me, she reminded herself firmly, but that will change. She tapped her foot briskly on the floor and stared at the young man until his eyes dropped and he flushed.

"I will not be kept waiting," she snapped.

Jason scowled and followed her to the pillar, perching on the very edge of the stonework and looking anywhere but at her. Pasiphae could not help but notice the limp he was clearly trying to hide and frowned again. Before she could comment the servant was back with the items she had requested. Seating herself alongside her son, she carefully placed the bowl of water on the floor by her feet and the comfrey and linen bandage alongside it. Stooping she wet and partially wrung out the cloth and then turned towards Jason, catching his hand in her own and beginning the process of gently cleansing the wound. With some dismay she realised that her hands were trembling slightly. Somehow, despite the machinations she had gone through to try to reclaim her son as her own, she had never truly expected to be here and suddenly found herself hideously unprepared for the reality of being face to face with the boy. Trying to complete her task as gently as possible she continued to mop the blood away from Jason's hand. He didn't so much as murmur she noted with some pride, even though she knew from experience that the act of cleaning the wound would be causing him some pain.

Finally, her task completed, she reached down and picked up the comfrey, crushing it between her fingers and laying the leaves over the cut, before binding it carefully with the strip of linen.

"A poultice would have been better," she said softly, "but I do not have the other ingredients I require and I cannot ask any of the doctors to spare supplies at the moment. The leaves should suffice however, and the wound should heal well."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Jason answered equally softly.

Pasiphae looked at him and allowed herself a brief smile, noticing the questions and uncertainty in his eyes.

"Perhaps I am not who you believe me to be," she murmured. "I believe you and I have more in common than you think."

Jason frowned. He had come to believe that the Queen was an evil witch with megalomaniac tendencies over the last few months, but he could hardly voice that here and now. He had not missed the way her hands shook as she held his, holding on for a little longer than was strictly speaking necessary once the bandage was tied, nor missed the apparently genuine concern in her eyes as she looked at him. By rights he should expect some sort of trick and yet he found himself more at ease in her company than he would have thought was possible. What exactly was going on here? His mind was screaming at him that he should in no way trust the woman alongside him but something in him seemed to react to her at a much more basic level and he found himself unwilling to pull away.

For a long moment they sat in a silence that, bizarrely, was almost comfortable. Then Pasiphae seemed to rouse herself and the mask of the Queen fell back into place.

"If you have any other injuries it would be in your best interests to inform me now," she said briskly.

"I do not," Jason answered.

"And yet you were limping as we came over here."

"That is not new," Jason said. "I twisted my knee several days ago. It is healing and I am fine."

He pushed himself up to stand, trying hard to hide how much his leg was hurting right now. His knee was definitely swollen and had seized up as he sat. The kick from the slaver hadn't helped matters either but until he had a chance to rest there was no good in making a fuss. Besides which he really didn't think it would be a good idea to show weakness in front of the Queen – she was after all Ariadne's greatest enemy and by extension his. As he went to take a step, however, his right knee betrayed him, giving way beneath himself. He would have fallen but for a pair of surprisingly strong slender arms that caught him around the shoulders and held him in place. He looked up, more startled than ever, into Pasiphae's dark eyes.

"Perhaps not quite so fine after all, silly boy," she chided sharply as she eased him back down to sit against the pillar.

For her part the Queen was thoroughly rattled. She had not expected that being so close to Jason would affect her so much – and they had been close enough for her to feel his breath on her neck. Her son was no longer a distant memory or a longed for dream; she was not watching him at a distance now. He was a living, breathing reality in front of her and she was struggling to keep control of her emotions under the circumstances. Something nagged at her however, in spite of her inner turmoil; something she had noticed as she had stopped his fall. With a frown she reached out one slender hand and touched the young man's face and brow. His skin was like ice.

"You," she snapped to the servant who had brought her the medical supplies, hovering near to where they sat in case the Queen had any further requirements, "bring me a blanket."

She turned back to Jason, noting that his older friend was marching purposefully towards them, clearly having seen the lad lose his balance, his expression resolute. At the last moment he was side-tracked by the arrival of the third member of the trio – the skinny, clever one – and she watched with some amusement as they began a spirited conversation, the bulkier man gesticulating wildly towards Jason while the other one answered with clearly placating comments. Then the hurrying servant reappeared with a soft blanket that the Queen took wordlessly and wrapped around the young man's shoulders.

"You are frozen through," she admonished. "Do you not have a cloak?"

"Of course I do," Jason retorted sharply. "I just forgot it."

"On a cold night like tonight? I am truly astounded that you have survived as long as you have since you do not seem to have the brains you were born with."

She realised her mistake immediately as Jason bristled. This was not the time to antagonise the boy. The next few days could prove difficult enough with the siege and her campaign to make Jason fully acceptable to Minos without the young man digging his heels in stubbornly and refusing to accept anything that she had to offer. And what if he did not accept? What if he refused to believe that he truly was her son? She shuddered at the thought. No matter how much she planned, Jason was the one variable that she simply could not fully predict. Surely her son would be able to see the benefits of the situation? Whatever happened she would find a way to ensure his compliance, she decided.

Still it would be preferable to make the transition as painless as possible for Jason. She had no time to prepare him – no time to gently ease him into the truth – and deep down she had a horrible feeling that Jason was far from ready to hear what she needed to tell him. The feeling of uncertainty was the worst. For years now she had striven for control – for power – and had achieved full mastery over herself and her surroundings. Jason's presence was an anomaly that she had never allowed for – he was the weakness that she had not even known she had. She needed to draw away now; to calm herself in preparation for what was to come.

"I must return to my duties," Pasiphae said stiffly. "No doubt your friends will be here in a few moments to ensure that I have not harmed you." She paused and looked at Jason. "As the King said you cannot return to your home tonight but no doubt a bed will be found for you here." Her tone became gentler. "You should try to get some rest. The days to come may be hard upon us all."

With that final suggestion she stood and glided away, willing herself not to look back.

* * *

Jason watched Atlantis' fearsome Queen sashaying away from him with some confusion. Far from being the cold, evil, power-hungry monster he had thought her to be she had seemed almost… human; caring even. There must be something for her to gain by being nice to him but what it was he couldn't yet imagine. Still he would be on his guard and on the lookout for any nasty surprises. Mentally he shook himself. It had been an odd day all things considered – from the weird dreams of last night to those strange flashes he kept getting at the warehouse that seemed to tell him where he should be going, and now this odd almost friendly exchange with a woman who he believed to be his enemy… just what the hell was going on? He couldn't quite put it all together somehow; was too tired to even try. He felt drained and detached – and he knew from bitter experience that that was not a good thing.

"Are you alright?" Pythagoras sounded worried.

Jason smiled, trying to pull his head back together, and looked at his friends.

"Yeah," he answered. "Tired and achy but I'll be fine."

With a weary sigh Pythagoras sat down next to him.

"Are you sure?" he asked. "Because it looked suspiciously as though you had caused more damage to your knee. You practically fell on top of the Queen."

"It just gave way," Jason admitted. "It's a bit swollen and stiff this evening. I don't think I've actually hurt it again… it's more that I've probably been doing a bit too much."

"You're still going to get it checked to make sure," Hercules growled coming around to sit on Jason's other side and giving the young man a hard stare.

Jason nodded absently, his mind still caught up on his encounter with the Queen.

"What did Pasiphae want with you anyway?" Hercules continued suspiciously.

"Nothing really," Jason murmured distantly.

Hercules scowled.

"She must have wanted something," he insisted. "What did she say to you?"

"Nothing much," Jason said softly. "She bandaged up my hand and told me off for going out tonight without a cloak and suggested I should try and get some rest. It was weird… it was almost like she was worried; like she…" He trailed off thoughtfully.

"Like she what?" prompted Pythagoras.

"Like she… cared." Jason visibly shook himself, completely missing the worried glance that passed between his companions. "Stupid of me… sorry… my imagination's gone into overdrive this evening. I'm just tired."

"Both of you are tired," Hercules grumbled looking between the two younger men. "We'd better be looking for somewhere to bed down for the night and I don't think it's going to be all that comfortable."

"Come on Hercules, we've all slept in worse places," Jason answered.

"Maybe we have but the two of you didn't need to tonight. All you had to do was do as you were told and you could be nice and comfortable at home right now."

Jason rolled his eyes.

"And Cassie and the other girls would still have been in the hands of the slavers," he pointed out.

"I would have managed," Hercules protested. "You don't know that we wouldn't have found them even without you."

"And you don't know that you would," Jason argued. "What's done is done. Let's just make the best of things now. I'm sure there's somewhere we can camp in here that won't be too bad."

"We don't even have any blankets," Hercules grumbled.

"I do," Jason said with an impudent little grin pulling the blanket Pasiphae had given him a little tighter around his shoulders.

Pythagoras winced. Hercules was getting more and more irritated with every passing moment and Jason's casual disregard for his own wellbeing was only contributing to that. He wasn't entirely sure what had happened since he had gone with Cinyras to assist in the treatment of a badly wounded soldier although Hercules had briefly mentioned that the King had spoken to both him and Jason and had instructed them not to leave the Temple tonight. The big man had been more concerned, however, with the fact that the Queen had swept in and demanded that Jason go off on his own with her. He was quite naturally suspicious of her motives – worried that she meant to harm Jason or even worse tell him the truth. When Hercules had seen Jason half fall only to be caught by Pasiphae he had been almost beside himself with worry and it had been all that Pythagoras – arriving at precisely the right moment – could do to prevent him from marching over and dragging Jason away, which could have proved seriously detrimental to the burly wrestler's health given the Queen's fearsome reputation and legendary ruthlessness.

"Speaking of finding somewhere to settle down for the night I was speaking to Cinyras and he has saved a place for the three of us," Pythagoras interjected. "It is simply some thickly laid straw covered with spare sheets and blankets but it should be comfortable enough I would think – certainly more comfortable than sleeping straight on the stone floor would be."

"Why didn't you say something earlier?" Hercules demanded crossly.

Pythagoras looked embarrassed.

"I forgot," he confessed. "Cinyras _did_ mention that he wanted to check us both over before we retire for the night though," he added looking at Jason apologetically.

Hercules gave an exasperated huff and rolled his eyes melodramatically.

"And where is this place that's been saved for us?" he asked sharply.

"Over there behind that pillar." Pythagoras gestured to the far side of the Temple.

"Then what are we waiting for?" Hercules asked standing up and gesticulating impatiently.

Pythagoras sighed and pushed himself wearily to his feet. He was exhausted and the muscles in his chest felt tight and sore, and he had a sinking suspicion that Hercules might be intending to launch into a lecture just as soon as they were all settled when all Pythagoras really wanted to do was to collapse onto a bed and sleep.

Jason on the other hand didn't immediately get up to join his friends. He wasn't at all sure that his knee would hold his weight the way it was currently feeling, especially after it had given way the last time he had attempted to move just a few minutes ago. He didn't want to put his friends to any worry or trouble but at the moment he couldn't see any way he could get himself across to the other side of the Temple without their help. He would have to ask for help and accept whatever scolding he got for putting his body through the pounding he had given it this evening. He looked up ready to ask for assistance to find Hercules looking back at him knowingly, his arm already outstretched. Jason blinked in surprise.

"Don't just sit there with an idiotic look on your face," Hercules said.

"Thank you," Jason answered gratefully as he pushed himself up, gasping slightly as he put weight on his injured leg.

Hercules frowned deeply and caught his friend around the waist, pulling Jason in to his side and dragging his arm across his own shoulders so that he could support a fair amount of the young man's weight. With Pythagoras trotting ahead to lead the way they set off slowly across the floor. Hercules would really have liked to be moving a bit quicker than they were – reasoning that the quicker they got to their allotted sleeping area the quicker he could make sure that both boys were resting and comfortable – but it rapidly became apparent that Jason was moving as fast as he could right now. Hercules sighed. The dark haired lad was clearly just about at the end of his endurance and the burly wrestler had a feeling that Pythagoras was not far behind. Jason was trembling slightly with the effort it was taking him just to walk across the great chamber and Hercules tightened his grip on his young friend unconsciously.

The place that Pythagoras led them to was about as comfortable as was possible the big man was pleased to see. Three beds had been carefully laid out on the floor near a glowing brazier – thick piles of straw forming makeshift mattresses, covered with thick sheets and blankets both to prevent any of the spiky straw sticking through and for warmth, with pillows at one end. Hercules was more than a little touched at the thought the seedy looking doctor had put in to their comfort.

"Talos helped to set it up," Pythagoras murmured, "and I think he might have had help from some of the other parents. Everyone was very kind." He sank onto one of the mattresses with an audible sigh of contentment, stretching his long legs out in front of him.

Letting go of Hercules Jason carefully lowered himself onto another of the beds and let his head drop back onto the pillow with his eyes closed. A sharp tap on his good leg startled him and he opened his eyes wide to see Hercules glowering at him grumpily.

"No going to sleep yet," the big man rumbled. "Not until the doctor has checked your knee."

Jason sighed but pushed himself back up into a sitting position. It seemed that sleep would have to wait a little longer. He slowly loosened and removed his breastplate and began to undo the lacings on his wrist cuffs, raising his hand to cover his mouth as he yawned.

"I'm glad to see you're actually sitting down," a raspy voice said.

Jason blinked tiredly at Cinyras. The seedy looking doctor regarded him coolly before going on.

"Now let's see what damage you've managed to do to yourself this time," he said.

As the doctor began to examine Jason, Hercules gestured to Pythagoras to follow him. The young genius forced himself to follow his friend, knowing that Hercules was worried about something, but he couldn't help cursing under his breath at the fact that he was not being allowed to rest. Once they were far enough away, out of earshot but still within sight of their friend, Hercules stopped and turned to Pythagoras, his concern written on his face.

"Minos knows," he said without preamble.

"Minos knows what?" Pythagoras asked frowning in confusion.

"Who Jason is," Hercules answered. "He started asking about what happened this evening and then commented on how often he'd seen Jason and yet knew nothing about him and all of a sudden he got this strange look on his face. He looked really hard at Jason and it was like he suddenly recognised him, and then he asked his name and all about his parents."

"Maybe he was just interested," Pythagoras pointed out.

"No it was more than that. I was there and I'm telling you he knows. He said that he needed to confirm some things with the Oracle and he might have more questions for us in the morning… I'm certain that he's worked it out… Then there was all that with Pasiphae… I'm telling you that they're going to come for Jason… and soon."

"How did Minos react?"

"I don't know," Hercules snapped. "He wasn't angry as such but he didn't exactly seem overjoyed either. If he does decide that Jason's a threat we need to be ready to grab him and run."

"Straight through a besieging army?" Pythagoras said incredulously. "Hercules be serious."

"I am," the burly wrestler retorted. "I'm being deadly serious. If the worst comes to the worst we have to be ready to go. I don't know about you but I'm not about to let anything happen to _him_ ," he nodded towards Jason, "just because the King is scared that someone wants his throne."

"We need to warn Jason," Pythagoras murmured.

"And say what exactly? Sorry no-one's told you before but actually your father was the former King, your mother is an evil murderous witch and your stepfather wants to kill you just because you're alive? How can we tell him that?"

"We do not know that Minos will want him dead," Pythagoras objected.

"No," Hercules agreed, "but we need to be ready in case he does."

"I still believe that Jason deserves to know the truth," Pythagoras said firmly. "I did not tell him when I first stumbled on the theory because he was not in any fit state to be told at the time. Now, however, he has a right to know and if you will not tell him then I will."

"Alright," Hercules growled, "we'll tell him… but let him get a good night's sleep first. There's no point doing it now… he'd only spend all night stewing on it when he should be sleeping. You both look about ready to drop right now… It'll be better coming at this when we're all fresh."

"Very well," Pythagoras said. "I will not say anything tonight but first thing in the morning we will talk to Jason."

They returned to the area that their beds were in just as Cinyras was finishing checking over their housemate.

"Well you haven't done any major damage," the seedy doctor said, "but you have put unnecessary additional strain on that knee and set yourself back by a few days, and the kick you told me you had received has caused some rather nasty additional bruising. It's very swollen again and I'm guessing very tender as well – it is likely to be very stiff and sore for a few more days. You're going to need to use cold compresses to bring the swelling down and I have a tonic to ease the discomfort. Keep your leg elevated with rolled blankets or pillows overnight and the swelling should be a lot better by morning." He levelled a stern gaze at Jason. "But," he added, "once you're home tomorrow I want you completely off your feet for a full day and then back onto crutches for a couple of days after that… You're very lucky that you didn't do serious damage running around the way you did tonight."

Jason sighed and nodded.

"I know," he said, "and I promise I'll do what I'm told… I just didn't think I had a lot of choice."

"Just try not to undo my good work this time," Cinyras sighed. He turned to Pythagoras with his eyebrows raised. "Your turn," he said firmly. "Sit yourself down right now… I want to make sure you have not made yourself ill again running around in this cold weather."

As the doctor began to examine the blonde mathematician, Jason relaxed back on the pillows as Hercules once again positioned rolled blankets under his knee and fetched a cold cloth to use as a compress. For all the dark haired lad was exhausted he also had a lot to think about and he wasn't sure how easily sleep would find him. Gradually though his eyes drifted closed as his burly friend pulled the blankets up around his shoulders. As the warning bell tolled to mark the end of the latest attack on the city, Jason let all thought drift away as he slipped into a peaceful sleep.

* * *

Pasiphae stood in a window overlooking the city, staring down into the moon-washed square below and trying to pull her jangled thoughts back together. It was late – late enough that even without the curfew there would have been few people left on the street – but the Queen of Atlantis felt no urge to retire to her chambers for the night. It would do no good at all to lie in bed fruitlessly churning over her first proper encounter with her son. Far better to find something to occupy her mind until she was ready to sleep. She sighed. Sleep would not come easily this night, she admitted to herself. Her mind was too full of Jason. Even her plans for the future – always at least two moves ahead of everybody else – had been displaced as she mentally relived each second of their conversation.

There had been something wondrous, she decided, about sitting there and simply drinking in the presence of her son. Did that make her weak? Pasiphae had never had any time for weak willed women who gave in to their children's every whim; who cossetted and spoiled them; wrapped them up in swaddling clothes and tried to protect them from the world. Although she could envisage Jason's independent and forthright nature causing some problems later she still rejoiced in the fact that her son clearly knew how to stand on his own two feet and neither expected nor demanded protection from anyone. She would not coddle him; would not make excuses for any deficiencies in his behaviour; would expect him to learn how to act properly and behave with the decorum demanded of a member of the royal household. No she was not and would not be weak – it was simply that having been separated from the boy for so long she wished to enjoy the simple pleasure of being near him; wished to rediscover what it felt like to be a mother – to be _his_ mother.

"How long have you known?" Minos' cool voice startled her from her thoughts.

Pasiphae did not insult either his intelligence or her own by pretending not to know what he was talking about; by making out that she did not know the identity of her son.

"Not all that long," she murmured softly. "I visited the Oracle this evening." The two statements were not really connected but Pasiphae intended that Minos would assume that they were.

"As did I." The King came to stand behind his wife. "She confirmed the boy's identity although it was not really necessary… I had already realised who he must be from my conversation with him… he has no idea who he really is does he?"

"No," Pasiphae answered. "He believes what he told you – that his mother died shortly after his birth... How did you discover his identity?"

"His name simply confirmed things really. The boy's path has crossed our own one too many times for it to be a coincidence. It is as though the Gods have been pushing him into our paths; as though they were laughing at us… and when I looked at him – really looked at him – it was clear who he must be." He paused. "He has your eyes. I have seen that necklace that he wears before as well – in the hands of a child who was barely more than a baby. It took me a little while to place the memory but when I did I realised that the child I was remembering was your son."

"The necklace was a gift," Pasiphae said, her voice soft and reflective – remembering. "The Oracle presented it to Aeson when the boy was born. It hung above Jason's crib when he was a baby. It was supposed to give him Poseidon's blessing; to protect him. As he grew it would have been packed away to be presented to him when he was presented to the phratria for the first time at sixteen. It would have shown his status as Poseidon's servant. Aeson must have taken it with him when he stole Jason from me." She looked up sharply at her husband, her face hardening once more. "What are you planning to do to the boy?"

"Nothing," Minos answered. "I promised you that I would not hold him responsible for his father's failings and that as long as he did nothing to challenge me I would not harm him. I do not forget that there is as much of you in him as there is Aeson. To that promise I will hold true – my word is my bond in this matter." He sighed. "With the Amphigeneian siege and the demands made of us, Jason's re-emergence could be a blessing," he admitted. "Anaxandros will not be expecting us to be able to produce Aeson's heir and although he is unlikely to believe the truth it might just buy us the time we need."

"And afterwards?"

Minos sighed.

"I am not the Oracle," he said firmly. "I do not know what the future will hold. The boy is clearly uncultured… unversed in our ways and customs… and possibly even uneducated, although we will have to ascertain that of course. He clearly does not have the first idea of etiquette… of how one behaves in proper society… is little more than a peasant."

Pasiphae bristled, immediately feeling the need to come to her son's defence.

"He has been raised far from Atlantis," she snapped sharply. "I believe that he may even have been raised beyond the borders of Greece. It is unreasonable to expect him to know everything that he ought under those circumstances. He was always an intelligent and inquisitive child, however, and I am certain that with the proper instruction he will learn all that he needs to know."

"Of that I have no doubt, my love," Minos answered placatingly. "At present though his knowledge and behaviour leave something to be desired. I will grant you that the boy is brave, spirited and virtuous… his behaviour towards my daughter during my illness proved that… but he also speaks out of turn and does not seem to have the faintest grasp of proper behaviour in the presence of royalty. For your sake I am pleased that Jason is alive and that we have located him and I will try to be fair and just towards him – but my love you must see the size of the task before us. It will take a great deal of work on all our parts – Jason's most of all – for him to take his place as a member of the court and of our family… and he must be willing. There is the possibility that he will not want to acknowledge his heritage and in that case we will need to take hard decisions. Do we allow him to continue living in obscurity in the city knowing that there is the chance that one day his identity will be discovered by others? Do we risk him being used as a figurehead for a rebellion? Or do we remove the boy from the city – send him into exile far away from our borders?"

Pasiphae went cold.

"You said you would not harm him," she stated coldly.

"And I will not," her husband sought to reassure her. "But you must accept that if Jason refuses to accept who he is you may have no choice but to harden your heart and learn to live with the knowledge that he will not be part of your life. I hope for all our sakes that this does not come to pass but you must be ready for that eventuality."

"And if he should prove willing to accept his place and his heritage?"

"Then we will see how quickly he can learn and how adaptable he can be. I will not make unreasonable demands on the boy – will not expect him to learn everything overnight – but I will expect that he learns to moderate his speech and learns proper manners in short order." Minos paused and sighed. "If the boy should prove to adapt himself well to his new role then it may be another blessing. I am aware of my daughter's… _feelings_ for him and would wish to see her happy. I wish to leave Atlantis in a strong position for the future. Ariadne will be a good Queen… I am sure of it. But a Queen must have a King by her side to govern and rule. It would be better for Atlantis if Ariadne's choice of suitor were not from another state. She must marry for the benefit of the city but any outsider would naturally put the needs of their own state first. If Jason should prove to be acceptable it would solve a great many problems." He smiled and placed a warm hand on his wife's shoulder. "That is for the future, however. Now we must look to the present. The boy must be told of his heritage and encouraged to accept it."

"I believe that his sense of duty will help," Pasiphae admitted. "I will return to the Oracle in the morning and ask for her guidance," she could not help the bitterness that crept into her tone. "It appears that Jason has consulted her on several occasions in the past and that they have formed a… _bond_."

Minos raised an eyebrow.

"That may be the wisest course," he murmured. "The guidance of the Oracle is never something to be ignored." He squeezed Pasiphae's shoulder lightly. "Do not worry though, my love. Your own bond with your son will grow in time. It can only have been the hand of Fate that brought him back to Atlantis at this time… If you believe nothing else believe that I am truly happy for you Pasiphae. It is rare indeed that the Gods grant such a miracle… and I hope that it is the start of a brighter future for all of us. For now though my love you should try to get some rest. Tomorrow will be a long day."

* * *

It was hideously late when the sound of soft feet approaching woke Pythagoras from his well-earned sleep. A quick glance about him in the fading light of the guttering brazier revealed that Hercules was still snoring away in his bed, making a sound more usually associated with some sort of wild pig than a man, and Jason was a sprawled tangle half hidden beneath the pile of blankets their burly friend had deemed necessary to warm him up. He was muttering slightly and wriggling in his sleep, a sure sign that he was worried about something, although he did not appear to be having a nightmare. So the approaching feet did not belong to either of Pythagoras' friends. That raised a whole new set of questions in the blonde's mind. Perhaps he should wake Hercules, but what would he tell him? That he had heard a noise in the dark and had got scared? He could just imagine the ridicule that he would be subjected to, especially as he had no reason to believe that the owner of the footsteps had any nefarious intentions towards them; no reason to believe that whoever it was wanted anything from them at all. It was quite possible that it was simply someone who had needed the latrine and was now returning to their own sleeping place.

The footsteps drew ever closer until suddenly they stopped before hurrying forwards until they were right by Pythagoras and his friends. The mathematician lay silently in the dark, scarcely daring to breathe, with his eyes tightly closed. After a few moments he realised that the person (whoever it was) was not passing on and he cracked open his eyes to see what was going on. If there was any danger to his friends he was sure that a quick shout would bring them to consciousness fairly quickly – well Jason at least. Hercules could sleep through pretty much anything and often needed a physical slap to wake him. There was a figure in the darkness near the bottom of Pythagoras' bed; a figure swathed in a heavy cloak. It crept forwards until in the faint light of the glowing embers provided by the brazier the Queen's face was revealed. Pythagoras resisted the urge to gasp in shock and alert the fearsome woman to his presence. He forced his breathing to remain calm and lay still in the darkness, watching to see what the witch intended to do.

Pasiphae did not really know what had brought her here. She had tried to sleep and yet had been plagued by the nagging feeling that she needed to check on her son; needed to see for herself that Jason was sleeping peacefully. I am growing weak, she admonished herself. But was it weakness to wish to make sure that her son was well? Was it weakness to desire to know that _someone_ had seen to his comfort? It was not she decided. It was her right as his mother to know that he was well. Decision made she had wrapped herself in a cloak and slipped through the secret passageway that linked the Palace to the Temple.

Now here she was, standing over her slumbering son and watching him as he slept. He looked so very young to her eyes, so desperately innocent somehow, and her heart clenched at the sight of him; a sight she had never allowed herself to believe that she would see. His face was unguarded as he slept, his hair a tangled mass of curls that fell on the pillow. Pasiphae frowned. That was something that needed attending to sooner rather than later. Jason's hair was far too long for a respectable young man; was the sort of length that only a ruffian or a bandit would wear. Her first acts once he knew the truth would be to ensure that his hair was cut and he was found some clothes more suited to his station than those he currently wore.

She watched Jason for a little longer, noting with a growing frown that he moved uneasily in his sleep and muttered under his breath. Tentatively she stretched out her hand and gently carded it through his dark hair, marvelling at the softness of the curls entwined in her fingers. Jason let out a contented sigh and turned his face towards her. Pasiphae froze but her son did not wake; did not stir. He simply relaxed beneath her hand. The Queen allowed herself a slight smile and resumed her gentle petting until she could see that Jason was deeply asleep once more. In spite of her determination to remain aloof, to not give in to the urge to become the sort of weak mother she most despised, her heart sang a little. He had responded to her touch unconsciously. On some level he was already hers whether he knew it or not.

With some reluctance Pasiphae drew away. It would not do to be caught here now by anyone who might happen to be awake… and it certainly would not be helpful for Jason himself to wake up and find her hovering over him – no matter how unlikely that seemed to be given how deeply he appeared to be sleeping. She sighed inaudibly. Soon she would claim Jason properly; tomorrow the plans to bring him to her side would come into action. Then the long task of training him would begin; of shaping him into the Prince he was born to be. Jason would see that it was for the best in the end wouldn't he? Actually it did not matter if he did not. She was Queen of Atlantis and his mother. She would not be defied or denied. Jason would require teaching and discipline – especially the latter given what she knew of his antics since arriving in Atlantis. She would not grow soft or weak… she would not! With one final longing glance over her shoulder she moved silently back across the floor towards the hidden door and the passageway, her mind already busily making plans for the morning.

In the darkness Pythagoras let out a long breath. That had been… _interesting_ to say the least. If he had not seen it for himself he would never have believed that Pasiphae could look so human. In all conscience he could not keep this from his friend any longer. Tomorrow, he promised himself, tomorrow he would tell Jason the truth.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Thank you all once more for the truly lovely comments... I'm still trying to respond to them but I promise I will get there! 
> 
> I will admit right here and now that I'm once again playing a bit fast and loose with Greek mythology/history. There was an oracle named Phemonoe but she was the Samian sybil...
> 
> Anyway on to the new chapter! Please don't forget to let me know what you think...

Jason woke up in the pale light of morning and stretched. He had slept well for once – certainly better than he had for the last few days – although once again strange, half-remembered dreams had woken him sometime around dawn. He had lain awake for a while after that mulling things over in his mind until sleep had claimed him once more. Now though he felt surprisingly well rested and relaxed and wondered idly if anyone would mind if he stayed where he was just a little longer. Much as he knew Hercules would want to get home quickly he wondered whether the big man would be willing to wait awhile until he felt a bit more inclined to move. After all hadn't the King suggested that they would need to stay in the Temple for the time being? That he might want to speak to them again this morning? If nothing else it would seem prudent to wait where they were until they could find out whether or not Minos was willing to let them leave.

Jason stretched again but had to bite back a groan as he moved his leg. Damn it that hurt. It felt the way it had when he had first injured it. Staying precisely where he was without moving around too much seemed even more attractive now than it had just a moment ago. They _were_ going to have to go home later though and right at this precise moment Jason wasn't entirely sure how they were going to get there. The way he was feeling he didn't think there was any way he would be able to walk quite that far and the thought of both the steps outside the Temple and the stairs to get up to the house made him shudder. He glanced around looking for something to distract himself from the constant throbbing in his knee.

Pythagoras was still asleep. That wasn't all that surprising really. The young genius was still tiring more easily than usual since his recent illness (Jason resolutely ignored the thought that in actual fact _he_ was tiring a lot more easily lately too) and last night had pushed him to the limits of his endurance. Now he slept peacefully – the sleep of the just – and Jason couldn't help the soft smile that lit his face as he watched his friend. Pythagoras had been so very kind to him from the first moment he had dropped in through the mathematician's window. A fairly large part of him still couldn't work out why his friends seemed to care so much about him but he was glad that they did. If he could repay their many kindnesses in any way he would – and if that meant making sure Pythagoras slept peacefully he would do it.

Jason relaxed back onto the makeshift mattress. Since no one seemed to be hurrying him to move he thought he might actually take advantage for once and stay where he was comfortable. He had half expected Hercules to be waiting for him to wake up to start the "discussion" he had promised in the slavers lair last night and had not really been looking forward to the prospect. Hercules' lectures, while being well meaning, were always embarrassing and often conducted at a volume more suited to one of the war horns on the city walls. It was bad enough when they were in their own home – at least there the only people that might overhear were the neighbours and they were usually out at work in the daytime – but here there were far too many people who would undoubtedly be able to hear Hercules' every word. Jason wasn't entirely sure what right the burly wrestler thought he had to conduct that sort of lecture anyway. After all at least half the time their misadventures were the result of some ridiculous action of Hercules'. Besides which they were all adults anyway. Sometimes Jason felt that the big man forgot that he'd essentially been looking after himself without any outside help or interference for a very long time; that Hercules erroneously thought of both his younger friends as half-grown children in need of protection and guidance. It was the one time that the age gap between the three of them showed.

Where he was now was a mystery, however. A quick glance revealed he was not anywhere nearby. As long as he wasn't off getting drunk somewhere (because Jason really didn't feel he would be able to carry Hercules back from the tavern in his current state and he wouldn't want Pythagoras attempting it on his own) or accepting another ridiculous job on their behalves, it didn't really matter. No doubt he had simply gone in search of breakfast and would return fairly shortly with a bowl full of something or other to fill his stomach. Now that Jason thought about it breakfast sounded good. As though it had been awakened by his thoughts his stomach rumbled as if on cue.

"Hungry?" Hercules' voice rumbled from somewhere behind him.

"A bit," Jason answered.

The burly wrestler came around the side of a pillar with a large steaming bowl in his hands. He placed it down on the floor between the beds and sat down on his own mattress, removing three smaller bowls and some spoons from somewhere inside his tunic. Without comment he slopped some of the contents of the larger bowl into one of the smaller ones and unceremoniously thrust it at Jason, pleased that for once his younger friend seemed to have a healthy appetite. In his opinion Jason could stand to eat a little more regularly than he chose to most of the time. Then he attacked his own portion with gusto.

"This is good," he stated enthusiastically, with his mouth still full.

Jason grinned openly. Hercules was nothing if not predictable at times although to be completely fair in this case he was most definitely accurate. The food he had brought over was extremely good. A noise from the other bed made both friends look up. Pythagoras, apparently woken up by the smell of breakfast, opened his eyes and stretched, blinking sleepily.

"Something smells good," he said.

Hercules handed the young genius a bowl.

"I thought we could all do with something hot this morning," he answered. "The eldest girl from last night's parents gave it to me."

"Amathea," Jason murmured. "Is she alright?"

"What on earth could ever hurt her with you protecting her?" Hercules counted with a sardonic snort. "You're starting to get your own fan club."

Jason blushed and murmured something incoherent which probably contained more than a few curse words.

"Now that you're both awake we can start thinking about getting home," Hercules continued.

Jason frowned.

"We're not in a rush though are we?" he asked.

Hercules immediately looked awkward – that shifty look that he sometimes got when he was about to try to make up an excuse. It instantly put Jason on high alert.

"Well we probably ought to get home," Hercules began. "After all your blessed cat might have knocked over the water jug on the shelf and caused a flood while we were away."

"A flood," Jason answered sarcastically. "From one jug of water."

"It might happen," Hercules protested, pointedly ignoring the incredulous looks from both his friends. "Besides that doctor said that you need to stay off your feet for a full day as soon as we get you home… and the quicker we get home the quicker that day will be over," he added cajolingly, knowing that Jason usually hated to have to stay in bed.

"Actually I don't really mind staying in bed today," Jason murmured. "I'm not sure I'll be able to walk that far right now anyway."

Pythagoras frowned deeply.

"Your knee is painful?" he asked softly.

"It's pretty much throbbing constantly," Jason acknowledged. "It's alright as long as I don't move too much… I guess I was kind of hoping that I wouldn't have to get up for a bit… at least not until it had eased off a bit more."

"May I see?"

"Mmm," Jason agreed. "Sure." He looked at Hercules as Pythagoras made his way over, pulled back the blankets and carefully rolled up his trouser leg. "Didn't Minos say something about us needing to stay here until he'd decided if he had any more questions for us anyway?"

Hercules tried hard not to curse. He had hoped that Jason wouldn't remember that particular little detail and that he would be able to get both his young friends safely home and resting before anyone noticed that they had gone. Not that he expected to be able to evade the King or the city guards for long of course – it was more that he had hoped that he could make any preparations that they needed to flee the city from the comfort of his own house. It would have been easier if they had to make a run for it to go from there rather than having to escape from the Temple under the noses of the guards.

"I'd forgotten that," he said as brightly as he could manage. "We'll have to wait until we get word then. I'll get this fire built up a bit so we can all be warm and you two make yourselves comfortable."

Pythagoras nodded curtly not looking up from his examination of his friend's leg. Jason attempted to smile at the burly wrestler but it dropped away as Pythagoras probed his knee and he bit back a moan. Hercules frowned, trying to decide whether he needed to fetch the doctor once again. It wasn't that he didn't trust Pythagoras – far from it actually – but he was only too aware that the lad was still recovering himself and had no medical supplies with him.

"I was just coming to take a look at that myself," a familiar rusty voice said with vague amusement.

All three friends looked up in surprise to see Cinyras leaning against a pillar with his arms folded and a sardonic smile gracing his alcohol ravaged features. The doctor ambled forwards and crouched down beside Pythagoras peering at Jason with his yellowed rheumy eyes. He grunted in a satisfied manner and reached into his leather satchel pulling out a bottle and a jar. Grabbing a cup from within his bag he poured out a measured amount from the bottle and thrust it at Jason.

"Drink," he instructed firmly. "This tonic is a little stronger than the one I gave you before that you have at home but I think you could probably use it."

Jason nodded and did as he was told. Cinyras turned his attention to the young man's injured knee.

"The swelling is going down nicely as I had hoped," he murmured, "and the bruising from last night is beginning to come out already. This is a good sign… although I would imagine that it still feels very sore and stiff – and will for some days I am afraid. The joint itself will be weak for a while to come… although with luck – and barring you deciding to ignore all advice and running on it before it has had time to heal again – it should be completely healed in a week or two… probably closer to two to be honest. For now though my instructions from last night stand. Once you are at home I want you to keep completely off your feet for a full day with your knee elevated if you can and then use crutches for the following two. Gentle exercises will help – and I _do_ mean _gentle_. Try bending and stretching your leg gently for the next few days to help decrease the stiffness. Also you'll probably find that warm compresses help with the stiffness. You're likely to find that your knee will be swollen and sore by the end of a day so when that happens put your feet up… it _will_ pass and the more you do as you're told and _listen_ to what your body is telling you the quicker that will happen and the quicker you will heal. I have a salve that will help with the bruising and stiffness for now and I will strap your knee up so that you can at least make it home – although you may still need some help… particularly with the stairs I would imagine."

"Thank you," Jason answered quietly.

Cinyras smiled briefly in response and proceeded to carefully and gently massage some of the salve into the young man's knee. Jason frowned at the feeling of gentle heat that spread across his knee. It felt almost like one of those muscle rubs to treat minor aches and pains he'd used back in his old life before he had come to Atlantis and for a moment both the familiarity of the feeling and the strangeness at experiencing it here threw him.

"What is that?" he asked curiously.

"It is a formulation of my own creation," Cinyras answered proudly. "A salve containing mint oils and extracts of wintergreen. I have found it to be effective in treating sprains, stiff joints and aching muscles." He finished spreading the salve on and started to tightly strap his patient's knee. "There," he said tying off the end of the bandage, "you are done… and I don't want to see you again anytime soon!"

"Trust me," Jason answered with a faint laugh, "I don't want you to see me again anytime soon either."

Cinyras laughed and pushed himself wearily to his feet, collecting his satchel as he went. He had been up for most of the night tending to the wounded from the most recent assault on the walls and was now on his way to find a bed to sleep in and some wine to drink. With one final vague wave of his hand he rounded the pillar once more and was lost from sight.

For a while Pythagoras sat on his makeshift mattress lost in thought. He needed to talk to Jason but now that the time had come he had absolutely no idea how to broach the subject. Finally he shook himself. This needed to be done now and no amount of procrastinating was going to help.

"Jason," he said tentatively.

"Yeah?"

"There is something that I need to talk to you about… that _we_ need to talk to you about," Pythagoras said gesturing towards Hercules who came over and sat down on his own bed. "It is something I should have told you before but the time never seemed right… something I found out… no I mean something I _worked out_ … a while ago… but it was just after all that business with Alektryon and you were not yourself for a while… you were ill… and then you were recovering and there never seemed to be a good time and I did not want to upset you and then I became ill…"

"Pythagoras what are you talking about?" Jason asked in confusion.

"There is a story that you need to be told… that you need to hear… and you need to promise me that you will listen… that you will not interrupt until we are finished."

Jason frowned.

"If it's so important to you then I'll give you my word," he said softly.

"Good," Pythagoras answered. He swallowed hard and looked at Hercules. "Where do I start?" he asked almost pleadingly.

"We were talking the other day about the civil war," Hercules began.

"Between King Minos and King Aeson?" Jason asked, trying to work out why his friends felt that he needed to hear about something that had happened so long ago. Then he realised that he had already broken his promise not to interrupt and blushed, looking at his friends apologetically.

"Yes," Hercules said. "Back before the civil war when Aeson was still heir to the throne he was married to a princess of Colchis… he was married to Pasiphae."

Jason's eyebrows rose in surprise but he made no attempt to interrupt this time.

"They were married for several years before Aeson assumed the throne but the marriage was childless and the Queen apparently unable to bear a child… many believed it to be the judgement of the Gods; a sign of their displeasure with the match. Pasiphae began to involve herself in the running of the city – not something that a queen of Atlantis had done before – but as her power grew there was no-one to refuse her. Then one day a miracle happened and after so many years of barrenness the Queen became pregnant. When the baby was born it was healthy and it was a boy. The rumour was that he was special – touched by the Gods themselves… like his mother. He was no more than a year and a half old when the civil war happened; when Minos usurped the throne and made Pasiphae his queen. Aeson disappeared and no-one really knew what had happened to him and it was said that the Prince had been killed. Apparently one of the guards killed him accidentally, panicked and disposed of the body – fed it to the pigs. Pasiphae returned to her chambers to find the boy's cradle empty and his sheets covered in blood. She disappeared for weeks – it was the only time I've actually felt sorry for her." Hercules paused and sighed. "She came back out for the execution of the guard that had killed her son."

"Recently we have come to believe that the story was not completely true." Pythagoras took over from his older friend. "We have reason to believe that the child survived and was spirited away to safety by his father." He looked solemnly at Jason. "And we have reason to believe that he has returned to Atlantis." The young genius fell silent for a moment.

"So you think that Pasiphae has an adult son running around somewhere then?" Jason asked. He grimaced as a thought occurred to him. "Please tell me that it wasn't Heptarian…" he said.

"No… no," Pythagoras said. He hesitated before plunging on. "Jason we think that the Queen's son is you."

Jason barked an incredulous laugh.

"Now I know you're joking!" he said. As he looked at his friends, eyes drifting from one solemn face to the other, his smile dropped away though. "You are joking aren't you?" he asked a little desperately.

"No," Pythagoras answered softly, "we are not joking. We have both known for a long time that you are different… special. That you could do things that other men could not."

"I'm a bit faster than most people," Jason objected. "That doesn't mean anything."

"You are faster and more agile than any man I have ever seen," Hercules responded, "and you can look at Medusa and not be turned to stone."

"Then there is your necklace," Pythagoras said.

"My necklace?"

"Yes. It bears the symbol of the Oracle and is clearly Atlantean in origin. You told me that your father gave it to you and that the Oracle told you that he came from Atlantis… that you both did, although you were really too young when you left to remember. Jason I have been thinking about this for some time and I believe your necklace is made of gold."

Jason shrugged.

"And?" he asked uncomprehendingly.

"You knew it was gold?" Hercules asked.

"Of course," Jason shrugged again.

"Jason only members of the court and the seriously wealthy wear items made of gold. Forgive me but I have known for a long time that you were not raised with the level of privilege that your necklace implies." Pythagoras paused again. "You also bear the same name as Pasiphae's son; he was named Jason… I always knew that there was something about you; some mystery. But until the business with Alektryon I did not envisage what that might be."

"What are you talking about?" Jason demanded. Pythagoras looked at his friend and winced. Jason had grown increasingly pale as the conversation had gone on and looked incredibly tense, a spark of anger beginning to take fire in his dark eyes.

"After Alektryon attacked you he was arrested," Pythagoras said gently. "We discovered later that it was at the direct instigation of the Queen. She personally brought the matter to Minos' attention and apparently interrogated Alektryon herself. At first I could not work out why but then I started to put the pieces together. I believe that you _are_ her son and that she learned of it shortly before Alektryon's attack."

Jason looked at the floor.

"If this is what you believe why didn't you tell me sooner?" he asked, trying hard to keep his voice from trembling.

"I couldn't tell you at first," Pythagoras pleaded. "You were so withdrawn… I didn't think you knew where you were… you didn't seem to know what was going on around you… and then you began to get better and it went out of my head… all I was thinking about… all either of us was thinking about… was making sure you became well again."

"You've had two months Pythagoras," Jason pointed out in a dreadfully cold and quiet voice, "and you haven't said a word. You've been keeping it from me. Why tell me now?"

"Hercules believes that the King has learned who you are," Pythagoras said quietly. "If that is the case then he might see you as a threat… he might wish you harm. Even if he does not yet know that you are Pasiphae's son there is the fact that the Queen tended to you last night."

"She put a bandage on my hand that's all," Jason answered distantly.

"It is not normal for the Queen to tend to the injuries of an ordinary citizen," Pythagoras said softly. "In the eyes of the court you are no more than a peasant. Others will have noticed her actions and will be wondering at them. You must see that this is a dangerous situation."

Jason didn't respond. He stared at the floor with growing anger and confusion. Was what his friends were telling him really possible? He desperately wanted to say no but in a sick way it all made horrible sense.

"What are you thinking?" Pythagoras asked gently.

Jason stayed quiet trying to pull his tangled thoughts into some semblance of order.

"Jason?" Pythagoras pressed.

Finally his dark haired friend raised his head. Pythagoras almost gasped at the mixture of confusion, anger, hurt and betrayal he saw warring in Jason's eyes.

"I think you're either mistaken or you're lying," Jason snapped coldly. "Maybe you really believe what you're saying or maybe you're making a joke at my expense. Whichever it is I don't really care right now. Right now I don't really want to be around either one of you."

He pushed himself to his feet, wincing as he put weight onto his bad leg.

"Where do you think you're going?" Hercules demanded. "You're supposed to be resting that leg and keeping the weight off your feet."

"I'm going somewhere that you're not," Jason retorted sharply.

"Jason," Pythagoras began again.

"Just leave me alone," Jason said wearily. "Both of you."

He limped off across the Temple hoping that his friends would take the hint and not follow him; knowing that he needed some time to himself to try to get his head around what Pythagoras had been suggesting. On the far side of the great chamber he stopped and lowered himself down to sit against the edge of a giant pillar, tucking himself around the back side out of view of the eyes of the world. How long he sat there wrapped up in his own increasingly dark thoughts he couldn't say. Presently though a voice began to intrude on his consciousness.

" _Jason."_

Jason raised his head and looked around himself. No one was nearby.

" _Jason."_

The voice was light and strangely choral.

" _Jason."_

"Who's there?" Jason murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

" _Jason. We've been waiting for you… we've been waiting for so very long. Come to us…"_

"Where are you?" Jason asked.

The voice (or was it voices?) laughed lightly.

" _You know where we are. Come to us now."_

Without even stopping to think what he was doing Jason slowly stood up. Something was pulling at him, directing his footsteps. Somewhere in the back of his mind he heard and acknowledged Hercules' voice, calling to him across the floor of the Temple, but he was drawn onwards, beginning to make the slow descent alone into the chamber where the Oracle gave her predictions.

* * *

As soon as Jason hobbled off across the floor of the Temple in search of solitude Hercules took a step forwards, only to be stopped by a thin hand gently touching his arm.

"I know what you're going to say," the big man murmured without turning towards his companion. "We need to give him some space and some time to sort his head out… I just hate to think of him off on his own all upset with no-one to talk to."

Pythagoras sighed.

"I know," he admitted, "and I have to admit that it goes my instincts too… but Jason has made it quite clear that he does not want to be with us right now. You are right that he will need both time and space to come to terms with this and there is precious little of either if you are correct and Minos does indeed know who Jason is. The least we can do is give him some space now." The young genius sighed. "I did not expect him to be so angry at us," he murmured.

Hercules turned and looked at him quizzically.

"Wouldn't you be a bit upset if you found out that Pasiphae was your mother?" he asked. "It's not every day that someone finds out that they're of royal blood, that the King might want to murder them because of that and that their mother is a power-hungry witch."

"I suppose so," Pythagoras answered with another sigh. "This is all my fault though… I should not have kept this from him."

Hercules spun around and grabbed his young friend firmly by the arm.

"Now you listen to me," he growled, "we had no choice. When you first worked this out he wasn't well enough to hear it. Even if he'd understood what you were saying at the time – which I'm not convinced he would – it would only have made things worse."

"Yes but Jason is right. I have had two months since then to explain my theory and I have not."

"Two months where he was still recovering from that breakdown no matter what he says… and I'm still not convinced he's really completely recovered yet… Neither one of us ever wanted to see him in that state again. You have done nothing wrong Pythagoras… you simply wanted to protect your friend."

Pythagoras began to pace.

"Perhaps," he said. "But this was the worst possible time I could have picked to tell him the truth. You know as well as I do that yesterday was a bad day; that Jason was having a dark day and it took both of us to pull him out of it. I have not seen him that upset or anxious since we returned from Meriones' house. With what happened to Cassie last night… with us overhearing the slavers talking about procuring children for the brothels of Athens… it was too close to home for him not to react badly. We both know how traumatic those memories are and how raw they are… bringing up Alektryon was stupid of me… it only made things worse."

"No," Hercules disagreed. "We couldn't wait any longer to tell him. He had to know the truth _before_ Minos makes a move. At least now he can be prepared if we do have to run. I know it's going to be hard on him but in the long run it's better that Jason knows… I'll grant you that the timing could have been better but neither of us were really thinking about it any sooner. I know we talked a little bit when you first came up with the theory but let's be honest everything that happened afterwards largely drove it from both our minds. It's unfortunate that we had to tell him at a time when he was already a bit on edge but these things happen… and as for mentioning Alektryon, I think this was always going to be hard on Jason no matter what either one of us said to try to make it easier. He needed to know the whole truth and to do that he needed the full story… and part of that involved what happened with Alektryon. It's better to get it all out in the open in one go than to have him find out later that we kept bits from him."

Pythagoras stopped pacing and bit his lip. Deep down he knew that Hercules was right. He had had no real option other than to tell Jason the truth now and deal with the consequences, and it was better that he had got straight to the point in the end – but it still didn't stop him feeling guilty for upsetting his friend or worrying about Jason. Pythagoras had always hated to see anyone hurt or upset and it was always worse when it was a friend. To know that he had had a hand in that upset (even if he had had no real choice in the matter) made it doubly difficult for him. More than anything he wished that Jason had stayed to talk; had not disappeared to mull things over on his own. While he understood his friend's need for space and solitude he would still have liked to have had the opportunity to provide the sort of support and comfort that deep down he believed Jason needed – whether his dark haired friend realised it or not.

Hercules watched the young mathematician with a growing frown. Pythagoras was clearly working himself up into a state – feeling guilty for things that really weren't his fault. Well if the burly wrestler couldn't help Jason right now the least he could do was look after Pythagoras. He moved purposefully to the young man's side and slipped an arm firmly around those thin shoulders, catching Pythagoras in a one-armed hug. Pythagoras reacted automatically, leaning into that heavy embrace. Hercules smiled. The boy had always been tactile and responded to physical affection better than almost anyone Hercules had ever met. He squeezed a little tighter.

"Come on," he said. "Jason will be back as soon as he's settled down a bit and in the meantime I've got a set of dice with our names on them."

Without waiting for a reply he began to guide Pythagoras back towards the beds, pushing the lad down until he was sitting on a mattress before sitting down opposite him. He did, however, make sure that he was in full view of the pillar he had seen Jason disappear behind so that he would see the lad as soon as he popped up again.

They had been playing for some time when Hercules glanced up for the umpteenth time, looking towards the far side of the Temple where he knew their friend had secreted himself. He paused and looked again. Jason had clearly moved himself and was limping across the floor. Far from coming to join his friends, however, the lad seemed to be heading towards the stairs that led down to the chamber that the Oracle inhabited. What made Hercules' blood run cold was the utterly blank expression on his friend's face – a level of detachment evident that he had only seen once before and hoped never to have to see again. Oh Gods, what if Jason had retreated back into his own head the way he had two months ago rather than dealing with the issues they had raised in their earlier conversation? It was possible, Hercules thought grimly, it was very possible – although he still prayed that he was wrong. Without a word to Pythagoras he pushed himself to his feet and started forwards, eyes never leaving his other friend still moving slowly across the floor, taking no apparent notice of his surroundings.

"Jason!" the big man called. "Jason, wait!"

If Jason even heard him he gave no indication whatsoever. Hercules scowled and started to move towards his friend.

"Hercules what is wrong?" Pythagoras' worried voice sounded from behind him.

The bulky wrestler glanced behind himself to see the blonde mathematician scrambling to his feet, dice discarded and forgotten between the beds in his hurry. In a trice he had joined his older friend who was now striding purposefully across the Temple.

"What's wrong?" Pythagoras repeated as he drew level.

"Him," Hercules growled curtly with a nod towards Jason.

The young hero was by now nearing the top of the stairs to the Oracle's chamber and was clearly not stopping although his movements were much slower than usual, hampered, his older friend thought, by his damaged knee. Not that he should really be moving around all that much anyway. The doctor had been quite clear that he needed to keep the weight off his leg as much as possible over the next few days and had indicated that he believed Jason would need help to go up and down stairs. Yet there he was about to try to make his way down a flight of steps unaided. That was if he even realised that the steps were there. If Jason were as distracted and detached as he had been before then it was fully possible that he would not even notice the stairs – and if he didn't and ended up stepping straight off the edge? Hercules shuddered to think how much damage he might inadvertently do to himself.

"Jason," Hercules tried again, his worry increasing with every passing second. Mentally he measured the distance across the chamber and realised that there was no way they could reach their friend before he got to the top of the stairs.

For a moment Jason paused, poised at the very top of the stairs, and half turned towards his friends. Then he cocked his head slightly as though he were listening to something and turned back to the opening, his face still devoid of all expression. He set off again, starting to descend the stairs, taking it one step at a time, still limping heavily.

Hercules swore loudly. He was very aware of the curious eyes that were on him and both his friends right now from some of their fellow occupants of the Temple, drawn to them by his repeated loud calls to his friend. He swore again, more quietly this time. The last thing he wanted was to draw unwanted attention to himself and Pythagoras and more importantly to Jason at the moment – especially if the lad were having another breakdown.

"Come on," he growled at Pythagoras and hurried across to the stairs himself with his blonde friend in tow, preparing to follow their other friend down into the darkness and mentally readying himself do battle with whatever demons were plaguing Jason – to draw him back from the edge once more.

* * *

Pasiphae was tired; more tired than she was willing to acknowledge. Her late night foray to check on her son had been a short part of a thoroughly disturbed night; sleep caught in short and uneasy bursts plagued by dreams of the past. The truth was that she was worried. Jason's sleep had clearly been troubled and that was before the news that she was going to break to him today. How would he react to the revelation that she was his mother? Would he welcome his change in status with open arms? Or would he reject it utterly as Minos had suggested might happen? She had been so caught up with the idea of bringing the lad to her side that the thought he might not actually want to be a prince had never really occurred to her before. Yet now it had been raised it festered in the back of her mind.

She had wanted more time than this to prepare Jason. No matter how much she tried to convince herself otherwise she could not shake the feeling that the boy was not ready in any way to deal with what he was to be told. He was young, she firmly reminded herself, and far more likely to be adaptable than someone who was older and more set in their ways. Still this was a situation that would require careful management. Much as it galled her to ask someone she had come to regard as an enemy for anything, she knew that she need the advice of the Oracle. The Seer had clearly formed a bond with Jason and Pasiphae now needed to exploit that bond for the benefit of Atlantis – and of course for her own ends as well.

Her visit to the Oracle was well timed. It was still early in the day – long before most of the population would arrive with tributes to request an audience with the Prophetess – but not so early as to attract attention from anyone who might happen to be awake. And if her feet took her on a slightly circuitous route to the Oracular chamber, passing on the opposite side of the great chamber… well she was merely making an offering at the smaller shrine of Ares, God of war, in the hope that he might protect the city in the coming days. The fact that her journey took her near where a young man with dark curls slept had absolutely nothing to do with it.

Jason, she noticed, was still sleeping peacefully, as was one of his friends – the skinny blonde one whose name she couldn't recall. Did his name really matter anyway? He was a peasant, nothing more, and would never be an acceptable companion for a royal prince. Jason could soon be discouraged from acknowledging his unfortunate connections once he had been convinced to accept his status, of that she was certain. His so called friends would prove no problem she was sure – they clearly understood the proprieties of social status far better than her son did and would easily be persuaded to back away.

Pasiphae cast another sidelong longing glance at the boy as she slid past. Where was his other friend though? Not in his bed apparently. Another quick look around revealed to her that he was at a cooking fire some distance away obtaining a large bowl of food. The Queen sneered to herself. A fat man could always be guaranteed to think with his stomach it seemed. She filed the information away for future use. Perhaps the offer of a regular supply of food would persuade the man to stay away from Jason when the time came. She would bribe him if she must to make sure that he had no hold over her son; to make sure that her beautiful, strong boy could never be blackmailed or compromised by his past.

But it was not Jason's past that concerned the Queen now, it was his present and his future. And to ensure that his future – that _their_ future – was everything she hoped it would be she needed the help of the Oracle. With a sigh and one last furtive, sidelong glance at her son she hurried over to make her prayers at Ares' shrine before turning her feet and her mind towards the cavern below the Temple where the Oracle delivered her pronouncements.

The room was as badly lit as ever, she noticed as she descended the stairs. Did the Oracle somehow believe that it made her words more mystical if they were delivered in gloom? As far as Pasiphae could see all that the lack of light gave anyone was strained eyes from trying to see properly in the semi-darkness. But then she supposed she had always been more cynical about the abilities of the Prophetess than most people. Oh she knew that the Oracle's gift of foresight was real – better than most perhaps – but she was also only too aware that the woman only said what she wanted to say… that she saw far more than she ever revealed. Pasiphae sometimes wondered if the Oracle delighted in the power she held over other people. It was hard to tell – she had always been a strange woman.

At the scrying bowl in the centre of the cavern, near a crack in the floor which spewed forth the vapours that helped the Oracle to focus on her visions, the Seer knelt muttering ritual prayers over the blood stained water. As Pasiphae approached she raised her head, although she did not bother to turn around.

"I have been expecting you," she said softly.

"Really." Pasiphae could not help the sarcasm that crept into her tone.

The Oracle turned and smiled in her infuriatingly superior manner.

"You wish to know how best to approach Jason; how to break the news of his parentage without causing him to reject you utterly; and you wish for my help; my guidance."

"It is in both our interests that you help me," Pasiphae answered coldly. "If Jason chooses to reject his heritage then Minos will have no option but to banish him and I do not think that that would suit your purposes any more than it would suit mine."

"You believe that I have… plans for Jason?"

"I believe that you would lie and manipulate the truth to achieve what you desire," Pasiphae snorted.

"You judge me by your own standards," The Oracle answered coldly.

"I judge you as I see you. Your visions have long controlled the actions of this city. It is… convenient that they always tie in so closely with your own beliefs."

"I see only that which the Gods permit me to see."

"I know," Pasiphae snapped. "But you do not tell all that you see… you deliberately mislead people and make them believe what you want them to. You have seen Jason's future… although you will not tell me what it might hold… and I do not doubt that you will not hesitate to use him to achieve the future you desire."

"Everything I have done I have done to protect him."

"Protect him?" Pasiphae snorted an incredulous laugh. "Protect him from what? From me? He would have needed no protection from me… I would have loved him… protected him… but you ensured that I did not have that chance."

"I did what I believed to be best."

"For Jason or for you?"

"For Atlantis," the Oracle bit back. "But I _have_ tried to protect Jason from all those who would do him harm.

"You believed I meant him harm," Pasiphae stated.

"I believe your hunger for power would have overridden all other considerations." The Oracle stared off into space. "The bloodshed and suffering would have been unimaginable."

"He is my son," Pasiphae answered hoarsely. "I would not have harmed him, Phemonoe."

The Oracle started.

"It is many years since I have heard that name uttered," she murmured.

"And yet it _is_ your name is it not?"

"It was once. I gave it up when I gave up my life to Poseidon," the Oracle looked into the distance. "I knew the path I chose would be a hard one; that I would have to renounce my past – my family. But a life spent in service of the Gods brings its own rewards." She looked sharply at Pasiphae. "Few there are indeed who would remember the name Phemonoe much less know that it once belonged to me."

"You forget that I have known you longer than most." Pasiphae answered.

"I do not forget the past we shared," the Oracle said softly. "But our paths have long since diverged."

"We were not so different once," Pasiphae murmured. "And perhaps we are still not as different as you would like to believe."

"I do not seek power."

"Yet you wield more than any queen," Pasiphae retorted. "This sparring gets us nowhere however. I came here seeking the knowledge of how best to approach my son. You appear to have a… _bond_ with him. I would ask for your advice."

"And how does the King feel about this?" the Oracle asked sharply.

"Surely you already know the answer to that," Pasiphae said.

"I have told you on many occasions that I can only see that which I am permitted to see," The Oracle retorted.

"The King is worried," a deep voice boomed from the stairs. "But I have given my word that the boy will suffer no harm at my hand." Minos crossed the floor to join his wife. "He will have much to learn and I would see him do it for the sake of the Queen but first he must accept his place in the world. In this we ask for your assistance. For the sake of Atlantis I would have Jason acknowledge who he is."

"Such news will not be easy for him to hear," the Oracle murmured. "Jason is a young man who does not give his trust easily… it must be earned. He sees good in everyone but does not believe that he himself is worthy of other's time and kindness. No matter what he must remain in Atlantis, however. He is our hope for the future."

"What do you mean?" Minos asked sharply.

"Jason has a great destiny ahead of him," the Oracle answered. "But he must be willing to accept it and embrace it."

"And what is his destiny?" Pasiphae demanded. "What do you see in his future?"

The Oracle half-smiled.

"I told you once before that it is not Jason's future that you should concern yourself with," she said. "It is your own."

"I have a right to know," Pasiphae snapped. "I am his mother."

"They were telling the truth then," a new voice intruded, its tone numb.

The three occupants of the chamber span around to see the object of their discussion poised at the bottom of the stairs, eyes wide and wild and arms hugged almost desperately around his middle.

"My friends said that you were my mother and I couldn't quite bring myself to believe them," Jason continued quietly.

Pasiphae's heart clenched. The boy looked and sounded so desperately young and innocent standing in the half-light. His anxiety was almost palpable and he looked so very lost – hurt and alone. Before she could say a word, however – before she could even make a move – the Oracle had started across the room, her hands outstretched beseechingly and her face softened by a warm smile. The Queen ground her teeth. It wasn't the Oracle's place to be comforting Jason but her own position in her son's life had long since been stolen from her. She was therefore gratified to see the young man pull back away from the Seer, his eyes hardening with anger.

"Did you know?" he demanded, his voice frighteningly soft; his words dropping like shards of ice. "Did you know that she was my mother?"

"I did know," the Oracle admitted. "But I did not want to see you come to harm."

"You lied to me then."

"I have only ever sought to protect you; to guide you," the Oracle answered.

"You lied to me from the moment that you met me yet you claim to have tried to help me?" Jason retorted, his voice breaking. "I stood here and asked you if you knew who my mother was. I asked you more than once… and you kept on lying to me… telling me that you did not have the answers I needed… you had no right."

"There were things that it was better if you did not know," the Oracle said quietly, turning away from him.

Jason grabbed her wrist hard, forcing her to turn back around and face him. Even from across the chamber Pasiphae could see his fingers digging into the woman's arm and felt Minos stiffen beside her; one did not treat the Oracle of Poseidon in this manner.

"You don't get to make that sort of decision for me," Jason said. "All my life I dreamed of having a family; of having parents like everyone else… but this is twisted… a sick fantasy. And you're right at the centre of it; right at the centre of all the lies."

The Oracle gently released her arm from the young man's grasp and brought a hand up to caress the side of his face gently. Jason shied away from her like a startled horse and she let the hand drop almost helplessly. A movement on the stairs caught Pasiphae's eye and she glanced up with a frown to see Jason's two friends descending quietly and carefully, both of their faces a picture of concern.

"Answer me one question," Jason said to the Oracle. "Has everyone in my life been lying to me? God you all must have laughed at me… too stupid to see the truth."

"No-one was laughing," Hercules rumbled softly, gratified to see Jason glance at him briefly. "It was never funny… and you were never stupid either. You had no way of knowing what the truth was. None of us did… and when we worked out the truth you were in no position to hear it – you simply weren't well enough – and we were more concerned with your wellbeing. At the end of the day it never mattered to me and him," he gestured at Pythagoras who was nodding his agreement, " _who_ your parents were… we were more interested in _you_ … and we knew who you were… and like we've said before we're a family no matter what."

By this time he had managed to make his way to the bottom of the stairs and had rested a gentle hand on the back of Jason's neck. The young man looked back at him with wide, despairing eyes and Hercules felt his heart break a little for the pain and turmoil that his friend was being put through.

A pointed clearing of the throat made them turn back to face the room. Hercules felt Jason tense even more and began to rub gentle, comforting circles on the back of the lad's neck. Minos was watching them with an eyebrow raised.

"Now that we all know who everyone is I believe there are things we must discuss," he said firmly.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Thank you to Sigmund for your lovely comments.... I will respond to them properly when I get a chance!
> 
> So I think this is probably the longest chapter I've ever written... I hope that doesn't put anyone off :-)
> 
> Don't forget to let me know what you think...

Hercules looked at the King with suspicious eyes. Without a second thought he slowly moved himself until he was standing half in front of Jason, preparing himself to defend his young friend to the last if necessary even though he was unarmed. On the other side of the dark haired lad Pythagoras moved into place in support of his friends. Of course Hercules acknowledged the fact that if Minos decided to call for his guards – his _armed_ guards – there would be very little any of them could do. Still if he was going to go down then he would go down fighting; defending his friends to the last.

In the centre of the chamber Minos' eyes narrowed as he watched the three men. There was something almost amusing in the way that Jason's two friends prepared to defend him in spite of their obvious lack of weaponry. Just how long did they think they would last against armed soldiers if it really came down to it? And yet there was also something both heart-warming and breath-taking about their complete loyalty to one another. Had he ever engendered such loyalty in another person? He had witnessed it before with these three of course; had heard the rumours that Jason had entered the labyrinth and faced the Minotaur on behalf of one of his friends (it was the skinny one who had actually drawn the black stone if the rumours were correct) and that the other two had been caught trying to break him free and sent in with him; had seen the older man speak up for Jason at his trial in spite of his own fear (and really with hindsight it had been wrong of him to sentence the other two along with the outspoken young man simply for being his friends – his only excuse was that he had been irritated at the time) and had watched as they had leapt the bulls together – supporting each other in any way they could. Such loyalty – such absolute faith in one another – could not be bought and the King of Atlantis found himself almost envious. He stepped forwards with his palms raised in a gesture of peace.

"I mean you no harm," he stated, "but as I said we have much to discuss and precious little time to do it. This has come as a shock to us all but there are… implications that we must consider." He looked straight at Jason. "Know now though that although there will be certain…expectations… placed upon you I would still have you made welcome and comfortable within my house – for your mother's sake if nothing else. I give you my word that you have nothing to fear from me."

Hercules exchanged a worried glance with Pythagoras. Was the King being honest? He seemed sincere enough but that might change the instant he saw Jason as a threat. Then there was Jason himself. How would he react to everything that was going on? The big man could hear his young friend's breath rasping, coming in short, anxious bursts, and could feel the tension growing in the lad. Hercules was worried that after his outburst at the Oracle Jason was beginning to shut down; to disappear inside his own head again. What he wanted more than anything right now was to get Jason to somewhere quiet and safe where he could be encouraged to let everything out rather than bottle it all up inside as seemed likely if he were to be forced to stay here in the public eye.

"I am sure that you must have many questions and there are many plans that must be discussed for the future," Minos continued. "For now there is a situation of vital importance that we must consider. It relates to the current siege and the future of Atlantis; to the very peace treaty that the Amphigeneians have breached. Come, this matter must be discussed in private. You will return to the Palace with us to hear what I have to say."

Jason didn't answer. His mind was in turmoil. Who should he trust? Everyone it seemed had been lying to him in one way or another, although ironically the person who had apparently been the most honest with him was the one person that everyone had been telling him he should most fear – Minos. Even his friends had kept this from him – one more item to add to the long list of things they should have told him but hadn't. They, at least, had been trying to act in his best interests, however – of that he had no doubt. No matter how misguided they had been both Pythagoras and Hercules had been acting out of love; had been trying to protect him; and he knew that he still trusted them both implicitly no matter what. It didn't mean that he wasn't still angry at them, however. No matter how good their intentions he was still hurt by their actions; stung by their lies of omission. Of all the revelations of the morning that was what had hit him the most – the fact that his friends had not trusted that he was strong enough to cope; had known how much it would have meant to him to find out more about his own family and had still chosen to keep their knowledge to themselves. It tore his defences apart; left him raw and open to attack. Right now he would really like to find a quiet bolt hole somewhere where he could just disappear from the eyes of the world for a while to build his walls back up but even that seemed to be impossible given Minos' declaration that he was to return to the Palace with the King and Queen.

The Palace. What did they expect him to do at the Palace? What did they want of him? His breathing quickened even further as the walls of the cavern seemed to loom up around him, closing in and threatening to suffocate him. Would his friends be allowed to come as well? Somehow he doubted that either the King or Queen would be happy with that. What exactly would happen if he refused to go? Would they have him brought there in chains? Jason was in no doubt that he was not actually going to be given any choice in the matter. He clenched his hands into fists at his sides, nails biting hard into the palms of his hands, the left one flaring into pain as they irritated the bound wound – using the sensation to try to ground himself; to fight away the unreasoning waves of panic. They were going to take all choice away from him; were going to leave him with no control whatsoever over his own life; would rob him of his independence. He couldn't do this; couldn't be what they wanted him to be; couldn't be another Heptarian. He was bound to mess up like he always did. Sooner or later he was going to do something or say something wrong and then what would they do? Jason could feel his pulse starting to race as his breath came in short, sharp gasps, his chest tightening painfully and blood pounding in his ears. The air felt thick and heavy and he couldn't seem to get enough oxygen as his vision closed in and waves of dizziness rocked him.

He was vaguely aware of caring hands easing him down to sit on the stairs as the pain in his chest grew. A callused but gentle hand shoved his head firmly down between his legs while the other hand rubbed up and down his spine and a gruff voice instructed him to take deep breaths. In all honesty Jason tried – he really did – but the air felt too thick and his breath rattled in his throat as his mind scrabbled for some purchase to calm himself down. He didn't have time for this now; needed desperately to focus. A smooth hand caught his and unclenched his tightly furled fingers, pressing it gently against a thin chest, the breastbone protruding far too much to be described as truly healthy, and the quiet and calm voice of Pythagoras murmured softly in his ear.

"It's alright," Pythagoras murmured. "It's all going to be alright. Just keep breathing with me. Listen to my voice and breathe. Easy Jason. That's it. Breathe with me."

Across the floor Minos watched the situation unfold ahead of him with growing confusion and concern. It was clear that his stepson had been driven into a panic attack but he really couldn't see how it had happened. Surely what he was suggesting – a discussion in private in the comfort of the Palace rather than in a dark, uncomfortable cavern where there was always the chance that they could be overheard – wasn't really all _that_ bad was it? He mentally reviewed what he had said and could find nothing threatening in either his words or tone. Perhaps then it was something else; perhaps Jason was simply of a nervous disposition. Yet he had stood in front of the King on more than one occasion with his head unbowed under circumstances that would have had other men cowering. Even at his own trial he had not begged for mercy – his older friend had ended up trying to do that on his behalf. Then there was the situation last night too. The boy had shown courage once again in rescuing those children and hadn't Dion mentioned something about him being injured? That last thought came to Minos with a guilty little start. He hadn't even thought about the fact that the lad was apparently injured until now. Pain had a way of making the strongest man act out of character so perhaps that was the reason for Jason's sudden slide into panic. The boy was clearly in shock from the news he had been given, was emotionally overwrought, and when you added a level of pain and suffering into the mix it could well have pushed him too far. Still the King would need to make enquiries. If it were to prove that this was not the case and that Jason was in fact somehow mentally deficient then it could throw all of their plans into disarray. At that point he would need to decide what the kindest option for the boy would actually be.

At Minos' side Pasiphae stiffened. The King could almost feel her longing to go to her son; to provide comfort for the boy. He knew that it was only her granite hard reserve, honed by years spent in the cut-throat world of the nobility and the political jungle that was the Atlantian court, that held her in place. She clearly resented the fact that it was Jason's friends who were with him now; clearly believed that they were usurping her place. Yet all the King's paternal instincts told him that what the young man needed most right now was the familiarity of his friends. He was unsettled, upset, hurt and angry and required some form of stability in order to pull himself back together. Without a second thought Minos reached out and placed a restraining hand on his wife's arm. Pasiphae turned to face him and for a moment he was struck by the ferocity in her eyes.

"He does not know you my love," he murmured. "It would only make matters worse for you to try to go to him now. Jason is confused and upset. Allow his friends to do their work now – to calm him – and then we may speak with him."

"He is _my_ son," Pasiphae hissed angrily.

"Yes but at present you do not know one another; do not understand one another. Any relationship that you have will need time to form. Today we may take the first steps along that road, but Jason needs to be ready to listen. The situation we find ourselves in means that we cannot truly give him the time he needs to adjust and adapt but it seems we must at least give him these few minutes to regain control of himself," Minos hesitated. "We must make enquiries as to his mental faculties, however. This sudden attack of panic might indicate a far deeper affliction. We cannot afford to show any weakness by acknowledging a family member who is not completely sane."

For a moment Minos saw anguish flare in Pasiphae's eyes. Then they hardened and she glared at him ferociously once more.

"You do not know that this is true," she snapped.

"No," Minos agreed, "but it would seem prudent to make enquiries given the speed of this attack. We must know if your son is prone to bouts of emotional violence before we make any decisions about the future." He glanced across the chamber and half-smiled. "But see, he is already returning to himself. Whatever has caused that disturbance in his equilibrium he is recovering rapidly."

Jason forced his head up and his eyes open – although he couldn't actually recall when he had closed them – as Pythagoras' gentle voice broke through the haze in his mind. The unreasoning panic – the feeling that the walls were closing in – had receded and the air felt thinner again; felt breathable. In front of him Pythagoras sat back on his heels and looked long and hard at his friend, his blue eyes still mirroring his concern.

"Sorry," Jason muttered.

"Are you feeling better now?" the young genius asked quietly.

"Yeah. Everything's just…" Jason shook his head helplessly. "I don't know what to think anymore… I mean it just feels like everything I thought I knew was a lie… everything I knew about myself… it's just a bit overwhelming."

Pythagoras sighed.

"I cannot pretend to know how you are feeling right now," he admitted. "If it were me I would probably be hiding under a table somewhere drawing triangles repetitively. But Jason there are so many new doors that could open for you now if you were to grasp the opportunity. Know that whatever happens… whatever you decide to do… I will support you."

He was rewarded by a faint smile, a shadow of Jason's normal grin, but still gratifying nevertheless under the circumstances, and moved to sit alongside his friend comfortably, slipping a thin arm around muscular shoulders automatically.

"I still don't know what I did to deserve a friend like you," Jason murmured softly. He looked up at the King and Queen and sighed. "I suppose I'd better go and meet them properly… somehow I don't think I made the best impression."

"Maybe it won't be as bad as you think," Pythagoras said comfortingly.

"You are kidding aren't you?" Jason asked incredulously. "I just had a complete meltdown in front of the King and Queen."

"Yes, but if it helps you also had a complete meltdown in front of your mother and stepfather… they might just be worried enough that it will override the King and Queen part."

Jason groaned.

"I think that actually makes it worse," he said. "Besides why would they be worried? They don't even know me."

"Not yet," Pythagoras agreed, "but maybe you should give them the chance to… You said you have longed for a family your whole life. Perhaps this is the chance to have one."

"I think I've already got one," Jason murmured nudging Pythagoras with his shoulder.

"And that will not change," the mathematician confirmed firmly, "but this is an opportunity that many would dream of. All it will truly mean is that your family has increased a little in size."

As the two boys chatted softly – Pythagoras continuing to settle his friend's nerves down with his calm and comforting words, whether Jason realised it or not – Hercules looked up to see the King watching him, his face unreadable. With one swift imperious gesture he motioned for the burly wrestler to join him in the centre of the room. Hercules gulped but complied, knowing that his young friends were safe in each other's company.

"I have questions for you," the King stated.

Hercules gulped again.

"Yes My Lord," he said, bowing his head deferentially.

"The boy… Jason… what do you know of his background? Where was he raised?"

"He arrived in the city some months ago… nearly a year now, My Lord," Hercules began. "I don't exactly know _where_ he was raised but it was far from here I'm sure. Pythagoras, my other friend, thinks that Jason was not raised anywhere in the Aegean… was not raised in Greece at all… I mean he speaks the language like a native… which I guess in a way he is… and reads and writes as well as Pythagoras does… but he's not Greek."

"And what of his father?" Minos asked. "What of the people who raised him? Do you know who they were? The boy must have told you something."

Hercules cast a look across at the two boys and offered up a brief unspoken prayer to the Gods that Jason would forgive him for telling the King what he knew.

"He is an orphan My Lord," he said. "Jason told us that his father disappeared when he was very young… only five… and that he came to Atlantis in search of him."

"Did he find him?" Minos demanded, a new threat suddenly coming into his mind.

"The Oracle told Jason that his father was dead, Your Majesty," Hercules said. "Where Jason grew up everyone believed that his father was already dead but no-one could explain it to him or give him any details so he came looking for answers himself." He hesitated for a moment before plunging on. "Jason had no-one to leave behind when he came here. He told us that he was raised in a place where they sent unwanted children and was occasionally farmed out to other families… people who were given money to look after him… he has known little in the way of a family life and love… and I won't see him hurt like that again."

Minos raised an eyebrow at Hercules' audacity. It beggared belief that a peasant would address him in this manner… and yet he found himself admiring the man's loyalty to his friend. Alongside him Pasiphae had listened to the big man's words with growing bitterness. She alone knew the secret of her former husband's survival. It was one thing to have stolen her son away; to have snatched him from his cradle and removed him from her life; to have denied her the chance of watching him grow – of being his mother. It was something else again to learn that the man had then abandoned the child. What possible excuse could Aeson _ever_ have for his actions? For all she had despised her former husband – had hated him with renewed passion ever since she had learned of his treachery in stealing away her only child – she had at least comforted herself with the fact that Jason would have grown up with a doting father who would have seen to his every need. To learn now that Aeson had denied the boy even that much burned.

"Very well," Minos murmured. "No doubt the boy will reveal more of his… background and education as he becomes used to his situation. Now I must turn my mind to other things. The… attack… he just suffered, is he prone to them?"

"I'm not sure what you mean My Lord," Hercules said.

"Then let me speak plainly," Minos responded. "Is Jason disturbed in his mind? Does he suffer from a deeper affliction of which this is only a symptom?"

"No," Hercules retorted sharply. "Jason's as sane as you are… My Lord," he added as an afterthought. "He was ill a couple of months ago now and it's taken him a bit of time to get back to normal. Most of the time he's fine but now and then he just gets a bit… well… sad. When it happens he disappears into his own head and shuts himself off. We've learned how to head that off before it happens and usually it works. He's still getting better really no matter how much he tries to convince everyone that he's fine. Jason's tough though and he _is_ getting there. It won't be too long before he's completely better; before we can put it all in the past. But right now he hasn't been sleeping all that well for the last few days and he's in pain from that knee… and what happened last night dredged up some bad memories. Then with everything he's been told today… I just think it all got a bit much. He'll be fine now, you'll see."

Minos nodded slowly and let out a relieved sigh.

"Good," he said shortly. His eyes narrowed suddenly and he looked acutely at Hercules. "Last night General Dion alluded to the fact that the boy was injured and now you refer to him being in pain. In what way is he harmed?"

"Jason badly twisted his knee and cracked three ribs falling down stairs last week, Your Majesty," Hercules answered, his tone once more deferential. "He was pretty knocked about afterwards. It was bad enough to confine him to bed for a few days and to put him onto crutches after that. His knee has only partially healed and is still pretty painful… and running around the city chasing and fighting slavers has irritated the injury. I had a doctor check him over last night and again this morning and he strapped Jason's knee back up. He also said that he wanted Jason to keep the weight off his feet for a full day as soon as we were home – to stay in bed for a day with his knee propped up – and to go back onto crutches for the next couple of days after that. At the very least he should be sitting down with his feet up."

"Then before anything else we must see to the lad's comfort," Minos murmured. "This situation… this news… has clearly upset the boy. When you add to that the pain of an injury…" he trailed off but looked sharply at Hercules. "Jason will require some measure of familiarity around him as we discuss the future," he said. "It is unfortunate that Anaxandros' actions mean that we cannot give him time to adjust. You and your other friend will accompany him when we go to the Palace." His tone brooked no argument.

Hercules nearly breathed a sigh of relief. There had been no way he was willing send Jason into the lion's den so to speak without accompanying him – it would have been like sending a lamb to the slaughter given the lad's naivety – but he hadn't been able to come up with a single reason that the King would have been likely to accept to keep himself at his friend's side. Now Minos had taken the problem out of his hands and had decided that it would be in everyone's interests if they all went to the Palace together.

"Of course, My Lord," the burly wrestler responded.

"Very well," Minos said. "We will return to the Palace as soon as Jason is ready to move."

Hercules glanced across at the Queen as he returned to his friends at the foot of the stairs. Pasiphae, he couldn't help thinking, looked like she had swallowed a wasp. He sighed, a sinking feeling gripping his stomach. He was suddenly, dreadfully certain that things were about to get complicated; that life was about to get very interesting indeed.

* * *

The room Pythagoras and his friends had been led to was opulent but not overly large or imposing. Rather than being one of the reception rooms where visiting dignitaries were customarily received Pythagoras surmised that this was a family room – far more intimate than the formal rooms and designed for the comfort of the royal family. He took it as a good sign that they had been brought here. Minos it appeared wished to at least make an attempt to put them all at ease. Or perhaps he should say that the King was making an attempt to put _Jason_ at ease since he hardly thought his own or Hercules' feelings actually mattered all that much. The room was light and airy but warm – braziers in two of the corners radiating a glowing heat that made the room feel almost cosy. There were couches dotted about, richly upholstered and cushioned, and a recessed alcove was given over to a small shrine to one of the household gods. Near the couches were low tables, inlaid with precious woods, marble, mother-of-pearl and ivory imported across vast distances or given as gifts from visiting royalty. Pythagoras stooped to examine a particularly fine example, decorated with an image of birth of Aphrodite, showing the beauteous Goddess emerging from the waves. He found that he could not even name half of the woods used in the border and the central image, created from a mixture of different coloured marbles, ivory and mother-of-pearl, was simply exquisite.

"What are you doing?" Hercules' gruff voice came from somewhere behind him.

"Look at the workmanship in this," Pythagoras murmured. "The hours that must have been spent creating the central motif… it is truly amazing."

He turned to see Hercules staring at him sceptically and mentally sighed. He really should have remembered that his older friend had no appreciation for art whatsoever.

"Just as long as you don't break anything," Hercules responded.

Pythagoras squeaked in indignation but nevertheless moved to sit down on one of the couches. Bowls of fruit and rich pastries had been laid out on some of the tables along with several jugs of water and wine. Hercules drained a goblet noisily, the delicate cup looking out of place in his large hand, and tucked into another pastry, crumbs dropping indiscriminately down the front of his tunic. Pythagoras shuddered slightly, dreading the impression that the burly wrestler would make. Hercules followed his gaze and shrugged, slightly abashed at Pythagoras' disapproving look, brushing himself off and at least making an attempt to look presentable.

After they had left the Oracular chamber the three men had stopped briefly at the spot where they had spent the night before in order to collect Jason's breastplate and his and Hercules' swords. While it seemed unlikely that they would use them none of them were completely happy with the idea of abandoning them in the Temple. Plus it had had the added advantage of giving Jason a little more time to collect himself before he had to face whatever lay ahead.

The short journey between the Temple and the Palace had been awkward. Jason had not seemed inclined to chat and the other two had not really known what to say to him under the circumstances. Nothing any of them could say could really make this situation any better. The long flight of steps leading down from the Temple and the equally long flight leading up to the Palace on the other side of the square had been difficult. Cinyras had been proved correct in his estimation that Jason would need help. By the time they had entered the main doors of the Palace and been ushered in to the cavernous entrance hall by the waiting servants the young man had been leaning heavily on Hercules' broad shoulder and panting slightly with effort. Being Jason he had straightened as soon as he felt outside eyes on him of course and had followed the silent and apparently disapproving servant through the largely deserted corridors to this room with his head held high and his back straight. Pythagoras had never quite worked out just _how_ his friend managed to shake things off and appear normal to the outside world no matter what was going on inside. You would have to know Jason very well indeed to realise that anything was wrong half of the time – he was simply too good at concealing both physical injuries and emotional turmoil alike.

At the door of the room the servant had left them with the news that the King had instructed that they were to make themselves comfortable inside. A bell had been left so that they could summon a servant if there was anything that they required but since then they had been left alone. Once inside the room Jason had almost seemed to wilt, allowing his friends to see what was kept from the world; his pain and upset. Away from prying eyes the strong, confident, apparently untroubled young man who had followed the servant through the halls vanished and he docilely allowed Hercules to help him to a couch, settling back onto it thoughtfully.

The burly wrestler had been in full overbearing paternal mode – sometimes Pythagoras thought that he acted in much the way he imagined a mother bear would when protecting her cubs. He had insisted on Jason swinging his legs up to half lie on the couch – although he had allowed the young man to remove his shoes first after Jason had somewhat anxiously suggested his sandals were far too dusty to be put on royal furniture – and had then grabbed some of the extra cushions from another couch to elevate his younger friend's knee. It was probably a good thing, Pythagoras decided, that Jason hadn't stubbornly dug his heels in and refused his older friend's ministrations as he was want to do on occasion. In fact Jason had done everything that Hercules had asked with barely a murmur; had lapsed into silent thought, his eyes drifting around the room curiously from time to time.

"Are you sure you are alright?" the young genius asked his dark haired friend. Jason had been quiet for far too long for either of his friends' comfort.

Jason blinked, pulled out of his thoughts. Everything was so messed up. All through his childhood he'd dreamed of discovering that his parents weren't dead; fantasised about finding his mother; dreamed of being part of a real family who would love and want him no matter what. In none of his fantasies, however, had his mother been a power-hungry, homicidal witch, nor had he ever imagined a stepfather who was a King and more than slightly paranoid to boot. It was like someone was playing a monumental joke on him – taking all his childhood fantasies and twisting them into something dark and unrecognisable. Not for the first time it felt like the whole world was falling down around him; like someone was dumping the weight of it on his shoulders.

But Pythagoras had suggested that maybe this was an opportunity; that maybe these people would accept him for who he was – as his friends had done so many months before – and Pasiphae had clearly been trying to be kind as she had bandaged his hand. Perhaps he owed it to her to give her a chance – if not a chance to be his mother then at least a chance to tell him her side of the story. And who knew what might grow from there? Perhaps it would not be so bad to learn about her; to learn about his family. But what if she wanted a price that he was not willing to pay? What if she wanted him to change who he was? To become a second Heptarian ready to dance to her tune? He certainly wasn't going to do that! Still it wouldn't hurt to wait and see what she had planned… and if they really were irreconcilable? Well that was a bridge he would have to cross when he came to it.

It didn't really help matters much that his head was still full of strange images left over from his dreams of the last two nights. Some of which seemed to have come true during their rescue of the children. Then there was the other thing that had happened last night – the feelings that had drawn him towards the right warehouse and later on had led him to the girls and helped them all to escape. He would like to write it off as coincidence; as his imagination going into overdrive. But that wasn't what it felt like. He had _seen_ something different on the door from the street, had _felt_ something pulling him onwards and had seen and felt that golden glow drawing him on towards their eventual escape. It had happened before back when he was a child, but then his Dad had told him that he had an overactive imagination and that he shouldn't say anything to anyone. Jason could still vaguely remember his Dad sitting him down one night and explaining that since he was becoming a big boy he needed to try to fit in with everyone else a bit more; to stop wandering off into flights of fancy and telling anyone who'd listen about his dreams; about the places and people in his head. He had always trusted his Dad implicitly; had always believed that his memories of the man were true; that his Dad had never been anything other than honest with him. Now he found out that even that had been a lie – that his Dad had had some rather large secrets that he had deliberately kept from his young son. Not least of which was the fact that Jason's mother had clearly _not_ died shortly after his birth as he had always been led to believe. So what else might his father have been keeping from him? Could the images he had seen in his sleep and the feelings that had pulled him onwards last night have actually been real? They had certainly felt real – and that scared him more than anything.

Then there had been those weird voices that he had heard back in the Temple. Part of Jason was worried that they were going to turn out to be similar to the auditory hallucinations he had had during the most acute phase of his breakdown two months earlier. But they had felt so very different to that. Then the voices had come from within his own head; had taken on the remembered tones of people from his past as his mind had attacked itself. This time there had been no attack. These voices did not feel like part of his psyche and certainly did not correspond to anything from his memories; they had felt external and had not tried to belittle or threaten him in any way. They had simply claimed to want to meet him and had drawn him down into the Oracle's chamber… just at the right time to encounter his mother and stepfather and prove the truth of Pythagoras' earlier words. So what exactly had they been? As he had prepared to leave the cavern to come here for the promised meeting with Minos they had spoken to him one last time, assuring him that they would wait for him; that he must not tell anyone about them; that they would be there waiting to meet him when he could get away but that for now he should go with the King. A brief glance at his friends had quickly made him realise that they could not hear the voices themselves and he had refrained from telling them at least in part because he was worried that they might think he had lost the plot again. Perhaps he had. Who knew? Now though Pythagoras was watching him worriedly, expecting an answer to his earlier question. Jason pulled himself together and attempted a smile.

"Do not tell me you are fine," Pythagoras added before he could answer, "when I can see that you are not."

"No," Jason answered. "I'm not fine… but you were right before… I need to give them a chance. All I can do is listen to what Minos has to say and then we'll have to see where we go from there." He looked down at his hands. "For all I used to pretend that maybe my mother wasn't dead when I was a child I never really expected it to happen… I think I owe it to her to at least hear her out."

Hercules frowned. The innocence and naivety of both his young friends never failed to astound him. Here they were in a situation that they should be running away from as far and as fast as they could and Jason was talking about hearing Pasiphae out – about giving the King and Queen a chance. A chance to do what? As far as the burly wrestler could see no good could come of the situation that they found themselves in. At best Jason was likely to be taken away from them and at worst the King might turn on him at any moment no matter how reasonable he might seem right now. As the big man watched, however, Jason glanced up at him. Hazel eyes met blue and for an instant Hercules saw a flicker of both understanding and sorrow in them before the gaze flicked away again. His heart clenched. Jason, it seemed, understood just what this situation could entail, had fully realised that it was likely to be the beginning of the end of life as they knew it, and was simply voicing what he needed to believe to get himself through the next few hours; was saying what he believed Pythagoras needed to hear.

"You should try to eat something," Hercules muttered. "Have a pastry… they're sweet."

Jason gave a quick laugh and shook his head.

"I'm not exactly hungry," he said. "It's not all that long since breakfast and I'm still a bit too worked up to eat anyway." He pulled a rueful face. "Besides knowing my luck I'd just get greasy marks on the furniture or something and I think I've made a bad enough impression already today."

"I am sure it is not as bad as you think," Pythagoras responded comfortingly. "The King was perfectly polite and pleasant when you spoke to him to accept his offer to come here and have a discussion."

"Offer?" Hercules spluttered. "It was an order!"

"I'm trying not to make him worry," Pythagoras told the big man with exasperation.

"Right, right… of course," Hercules said. "I'm sure the King means well and the fact that he's left us here for ages despite saying it was urgent that he spoke to you doesn't mean a thing."

"He is the King, Hercules," Pythagoras pointed out reasonably. "The city is in the middle of a siege. It is likely that something has come up that required his immediate attention."

Before the big man could respond further the door opened and a short, pompous looking man bustled in looking down at a paper in his hand.

"Your Majesty, I…" he began. He looked up and saw the three men sitting on the couches and trailed off, looking them up and down. "Who are you?" he demanded sharply. "What do you think you are doing lounging around in the royal quarters?"

"We were told to come here," Jason answered as inoffensively as possible. "My Lord," he added taking in the man's expensive chiton and supercilious manner.

The pompous man's eyes nearly bulged out of his head.

"You will stand when you address your betters," he all but screamed. "Don't you know who I am?"

"I'm afraid I don't My Lord," Jason said mildly. In his experience anyone who felt the need to use the phrase 'don't you know who I am' was generally self-important, arrogant and therefore not worth worrying about.

"I am the Lord Kephalon." He took in Jason's blank uncomprehending look and turned almost purple with rage. "Chief Advisor to the King."

Jason sucked in a sharp breath. He did _not_ want to start his meeting with the King by getting into an altercation with Minos' right hand man. Somehow he felt that would make an even worse impression than having a meltdown in the Temple had already done. Painfully he pushed himself to his feet, feeling Hercules and Pythagoras drawing close on either side of him and knowing that they were there to provide both physical _and_ emotional support if he should need it.

"I will hazard that you were not told to lie on the furniture and eat the food meant for His Majesty," Kephalon continued.

"We were told to make ourselves comfortable My Lord," Hercules protested.

"You lie," Kephalon hissed. "A servant would never be told to treat the royal chambers in this way."

"I'm not a servant," Jason answered hotly, his temper beginning to fray partly as a result of all the pressures of the day and partly because the man's attitude irritated him. "None of us are."

"You stand there dressed in little more than rags and tell me you are no servant?" Kephalon stated incredulously. "You are impertinent as well as lazy… _and_ a liar. I will have you flogged for this." He glared at Jason and then flicked his eyes over the other two as well. "That goes for all of you… and the servant who trained you. They clearly did not teach you manners _or_ proper behaviour. Afterwards you will be thrown out. We will see how you like begging on the streets in winter with a siege going on. You will rue the day you ever dared to sit on His Majesty's furniture!"

"I'm not a liar," Jason answered. "We were told to come here and make ourselves comfortable until the King could see us. He knows we are here My Lord."

"I will not be spoken to in this manner by a serving boy," Kephalon exclaimed. His face took on a cunning expression. "I will make you sorry you were ever born boy."

"I already am," Jason muttered under his breath. A startled and horrified look from Pythagoras told him that he had spoken a little louder than he had thought.

"You are clearly a thief who I have caught in the midst of robbing the private chambers of the royal family," Kephalon continued slyly. "You were desecrating the room when I arrived… eating food intended for the King and his family and were just in the process of stealing the statue from the family shrine. I will call the guards and you will be taken before the King for trial. At the very least you will lose a hand."

"I'm not a thief," Jason protested. "My friends and I have done nothing wrong My Lord." It was getting increasingly hard for him to remain civil and alongside him he could feel Hercules bristling, ready to defend his friends and then make a break for it if the situation required it.

"Do you really believe that the King will believe your word over mine?" Kephalon hissed. "You are a peasant… the lowest of the low… I am the King's chief advisor…"

"You _were_ the King's chief advisor," a deep voice from behind him said dryly. "Although I believe that your position may be reviewed shortly."

Kephalon turned, his face draining of colour

"Your Majesty," he stammered, "I have found these servants abusing the comforts of your family chambers. I was in the process of chastising them when you entered."

"So I heard," Minos responded with his eyebrow raised. He fixed his chief advisor with a lethal stare. "How dare you?" he demanded. "It is not enough that you insult the Queen and keep news from me relating to the wellbeing of my people… but now you abuse my guests within my own chambers!"

"Guests?" Kephalon stuttered looking at his king with frightened eyes.

"Indeed," the King snapped. "A situation has… arisen that requires my immediate and personal attention and these men have vital information for me. I instructed that they were to be brought here and made comfortable and yet I find you abusing them."

"My Lord I was unaware of these matters," the chief advisor said desperately, his tone humble. "I swear I was acting only out of concern for your best interests. I did not mean to cause any offence."

Minos looked at him coldly.

"Very well," he said. "We will deal with this matter and your other recent failings later. For now you may leave us."

As Kephalon shuffled out the King turned towards his other three companions. "Please be seated," he instructed, his tone proclaiming that he expected to be obeyed without question. "I believed that you would be more comfortable here than in a more formal setting," he said to Jason. "Your friend informed me that you had sustained an injury some days ago that was strained last night and that you should by rights be resting. Whilst our conversation cannot wait I would not see you in any discomfort for it."

He didn't miss the narrowed glare that Jason levelled briefly at Hercules. Clearly the lad had not wished to show any weakness to people who he viewed as outsiders. Minos smiled inwardly. Jason it seemed was wary and over the next few weeks he would need to be. The Oracle had said that the boy tried to see good in everyone but did not give his trust easily – as far as the King was concerned that was all to the good.

"I would have been here sooner but I was unavoidably detained," Minos continued. "It seems that there are many matters that only the King can deal with… too many it seems at times." He sighed. "There are many things which we must discuss and it seems that we have very little time to discuss them. "Your mother will join us shortly but for now we must begin in her absence."

He did not miss the way that Jason flinched involuntarily at the mention of Pasiphae or the way his posture hardened defensively. The young man's hazel eyes flickered with warring emotions; anger, fear, sorrow, hurt and – perhaps the most surprising – hope. Minos narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. The little glimmer of hope he had seen in his stepson's eyes had been unexpected. He would need to think more about it later and filed it away for future reference. Jason, Minos noted with some displeasure, had still not followed his earlier instruction to sit down, although his friends had done as they were told and positioned themselves on one of the couches.

"Be seated," the King said more firmly allowing some of his disapproval to bleed into his tone.

Once Jason had sat himself down Minos took his own place in an ornate chair set opposite and clearly reserved for his use. He reached forwards to pour himself a goblet of wine, taking it thoughtfully and swirling the fluid around inside the drinking vessel as he planned his next words carefully.

"What I have to say relates to both the past and the future of Atlantis; to the resolution of this siege that we find ourselves in; to the conduct of the war between ourselves and Amphigeneia." He paused and fixed each of the other three men with a hard stare. "What I have to say does _not_ go outside this room. Am I clear?"

"You have my word My Lord," Jason answered softly.

"Good," Minos responded. "Although our time is short I find I must begin with a brief history lesson. How much do you know of our recent past?"

"In know that you have been King for more than twenty years Your Majesty," Jason began, "and that the King before you was called Aeson. I know that there was a civil war and that you took the throne in the aftermath. Beyond that I don't really know all that much."

"I suppose that that is better than nothing and at least you will be able to listen to all I say without the prejudice of foreknowledge. Still with time passing so rapidly I had hoped to cut the history lesson short. I must out of necessity be concise. There will be time enough for you to learn of our history… of _your_ history… later." Minos broke off briefly and took a long sip of wine. "Where to begin?" he mused. "Perhaps the best place to start is with the treaty between Atlantis and Amphigeneia. Our two cities had been in conflict for centuries; for decades there had been open warfare. The endless wrangling was bleeding both cities dry in terms of both resources and men. King Anaxandros' father, King Hagnon, had only recently assumed the throne. He was more far sighted than any of his predecessors had been and believed that the future of Amphigeneia lay in trade _not_ conquest. Atlantis was, and had always been, the more powerful of the two states; was already a trading hub with links that spread beyond the Aegean. Hagnon sent emissaries to King Cretheus… your grandfather… to plead for peace. A treaty was drawn up between Amphigeneia and Atlantis which should have ensured peace between our cities forever."

"But Anaxandros has broken this treaty," Jason said.

"Indeed," the King answered. "He is claiming to have just cause, however. He is claiming that a clause exists within the treaty which justifies his actions. I have some of the finest minds in Atlantis looking into it… men so well versed in the law that it seems impossible that they will fail to find the truth… but at present it looks as though Anaxandros' claim – spurious as it undoubtedly is – does indeed have some legal validity as the clause he is citing may indeed exist."

He broke off as Pasiphae entered the room and gave his wife a brief smile. Pasiphae looked around the room imperiously, her eyes lingering longingly on her son before turning to regard his companions coldly.

"I had just begun to explain the situation we find ourselves in to Jason, my love," Minos murmured to her as she took her seat in a chair at his side.

"Surely this is a conversation that should be taking place in private?" Pasiphae responded sharply not bothering to hide her disapproval at the presence of Jason's friends.

"We are in private," Minos answered firmly. "These men have proved their loyalty on more than one occasion and I believe that they have a right to be here."

"As you wish," Pasiphae answered stiffly, returning to her contemplation of her son.

Jason found her gaze more than a little unnerving. He knew well enough that the Queen was a formidable woman and wondered anew what she might want of him.

"The clause Anaxandros is claiming exists in the treaty states that if either Hagnon or Cretheus – or either of their sons – were to die without a legitimate heir the crown of that state would pass to the king of the other. Since Aeson disappeared more than twenty years ago and was presumed to have died and his only child – you – were believed to have been killed the throne should by law have passed to Anaxandros."

"If King Anaxandros believes he has a right to the throne then why has it taken him so long to claim it?" Jason asked with a frown.

"He _claims_ it was because he was making sure that the heir of Aeson was really dead and was not going to return to claim the throne," Pasiphae answered. "I think we can all agree that that is nonsense. It is far more likely that he believed Atlantis was far too strong for him to conquer. With the recent plague weakening the city he is likely to believe that this is his best chance. The clause in the treaty is merely an excuse for him to invade."

"He has declared a truce which began at dawn. We have been given two days to either produce Aeson's heir – which he clearly believes we will never be able to do – or surrender the city to him or the bombardment will begin again," Minos said. "This is where you come in. It seems that the Gods have chosen to favour our city and have returned you to us at the most opportune time. I wish to inform Anaxadros of your existence. To let him see that Atlantis' Prince has come home."

Jason fought down the first tendrils of panic that began to creep up from deep within him. This was what they wanted? To have him declare his parentage in front of the whole world? To live his life by their rules and to have all choice – all sense of self – stripped away from him?

"You can't expect him to believe that though," he said, desperately trying to buy himself some time to think. "He'll just say you're lying, My Lord."

Minos smiled softly.

"I am aware of that," he admitted. "I am merely seeking to buy some time. Our situation is not so desperate yet. We have stout walls and supplies for many months to come and clean, fresh drinking water available to us. We also have allies who _will_ come to our aid. I have already despatched messengers and have received news that several of our allies are already on route. Anaxandros is far from popular and there are other kings who would wish to see his downfall. They need time to get here, however. Even if Anaxandros does not believe what he is being told he will have to at least appear to investigate it if only to give himself credibility if by some chance he does manage to take Atlantis." He paused and looked shrewdly at Jason. "I am not speaking of telling the whole world of your identity. I do not believe it would benefit either one of us to proclaim your existence so openly at this time. There will be a few trusted members of the court who will need to know the truth out of necessity, but the city at large will not know the truth. I will request an audience with Anaxandros to discuss terms. It is likely that that will take place on neutral ground between the city and his army. All I am asking for is your presence at my side."

"But wouldn't people wonder why I was there?" Jason asked. "I mean people in Atlantis. I'm not a member of your guard or anything…"

"You clearly have no experience of warfare," Minos said with some amusement. "It is usual for two opposing armies to have champions. These men fight against each other much as they would within an arena. As the man who slayed the Minotaur and saved my daughter from the brazen bull I would have plenty of cause to name you as a champion of Atlantis and as such your place at my side as part of my honour guard would cause no comment."

"And that's all you want?" Jason asked slowly. "Me to go with you to Anaxandros and tell him I'm Aeson's son?"

"That is all I want for now," Minos confirmed. "We still have many things to discuss Jason and many decisions to make for the future. For now though let us deal with the present and rid ourselves of the Amphigeneian irritation. Is this agreeable?"

Jason swallowed hard. What Minos was asking didn't really seem all that much, although he couldn't help but worry as to where it might inevitably lead. He had promised Ariadne that he would do everything in his power to protect her and this did seem to be a way to fulfil that promise. All he would need to do would be to play a part for a couple of days; to stand with the King at one or two private meetings. Hopefully it would buy the city the time that they needed for their allies to arrive – a week or two at most then. And if they failed he could join the defence on the walls as soon as he was able.

"I'll do whatever I can to help, My Lord," he said. "I give you my word that I will do whatever I can for the sake of Atlantis."

"Good," Minos responded. He looked appraisingly at Jason once more. "I would have you stay in the Palace for the next few days though… to receive instruction in how to behave when you meet King Anaxandros if nothing else. If he is to believe that you are the heir of Aeson then you must learn to act like it. You do not have the bearing or manners of a prince but such things can be learned. Rooms will be found for you within the family wing. Indeed I believe that your mother already has plans for your accommodation." He saw the brief look of panic that flittered across his stepson's face and smiled reassuringly. "Do not worry. Beyond the next few days you will not be held here against your will and your friends may stay with you if you so desire." Minos glanced at Hercules and Pythagoras. "I do not believe it would be possible to separate you from them anyway and as I have no wish to tie up my guards in the ridiculous exercise of keeping you in and your friends out I believe it will be simplest if they stay. They will of course be free to come and go as they wish. Once our dealings with Anaxandros are complete you will also be free to come and go as you please – although we must discuss future arrangements at a later date. That is not _so_ bad is it?"

Jason shook his head dumbly, unsure of what to think or say.

"Good," the King said. "Now I am led to believe that you are under doctor's orders to rest and that you should be in bed with your leg elevated for the rest of today and tomorrow morning at the very least."

Jason shot a murderous look at Hercules who returned his gaze coolly, clearly completely unabashed – much to Minos' amusement.

"I will leave you now," the King proclaimed. "Your mother will see that you are comfortably situated and any needs you have are attended to," he hesitated and looked at his wife. "I believe that she wishes to have some time to get to know you. She will never tell you how deeply she grieved for your loss or how much she has longed for you. I hope that today we have taken the first steps along a road towards a united future for all of us. Know that you are welcome in our home and in our lives."

He stood and swept from the room. Jason watched him go with distinctly mixed feelings. Much as being in the presence of the King – of having his attention focussed on _him_ – had made him feel awkward and uncomfortable, it had at least postponed the inevitable moment when he must deal with the reality of _who_ his mother was. Absently he raised a hand to his forehead and briefly massaged his temples, feeling the first hints of a burgeoning headache appearing. A pointed clearing of the throat made him look away from the door and he turned to face his mother for the first time at last.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Thank you for the lovely comments once again!
> 
> I seem to have written another long chapter! Please let me know what you think...

Jason stared at his mother suspiciously through narrowed eyes, his face hardening into a frown. The tension in the room was palpable as all the occupants waited to see what would happen next. Pasiphae for her part merely watched her son calmly, taking in both the hurt and anger that seemed to radiate from him calmly. He is young and afraid, she reminded herself. He has no reason to trust me; believes I will do him harm. The realisation brought with it its own little pang for what might have been. Jason should not distrust her; should have grown up knowing her love as well as her displeasure. Once again she futilely cursed Aeson's name. Whatever had gone between them she would never have harmed the child before her – and right now at this moment it really didn't matter how grown up Jason was, what amazing feats of courage he had achieved, in her eyes he was a child… _her child_. He had a right to be angry too. Everyone around him had essentially lied to him; his whole world had been built on the tissue of his father's lies. How must he feel, she wondered, to have his world come crashing down in an instant? To have everything he thought he knew taken away from him? And to have someone he believed to be his enemy revealed as his mother – because Pasiphae was in no doubt that he _did_ believe that she was his enemy.

 _You have only yourself to blame for that_ , part of her said firmly. _You tried to kill him several times and he knows it_.

 _But I didn't know_ , the other part of her protested. _I would never have hurt him if I had known._

The argument sounded weak even to her own ears. The truth was that she had tried to kill her own son – had caused him immeasurable pain with her magic – and now she was very much afraid she would reap the reward. The silence in the room stretched onwards, taking on a life and form of its own. It ended when Jason shifted in his seat slightly and attempted to hide a wince that his mother's sharp, scrutinising eyes picked up on immediately.

"Perhaps not quite so fine after all, silly boy," she murmured, repeating her own words of the evening before.

Jason looked startled, the expression making him appear so young that Pasiphae felt a jolt even as she used the moment to stand and cross the distance between them, coming to rest on the couch alongside him. For a moment they lapsed into silence again. The only sound that reached Pasiphae's ears was her son's somewhat harsh breathing – the only outward sign he was giving of his discomfort both at the situation they were in and from the pain she knew he must be feeling.

"You did not tell me about the fractured ribs," she chided softly. "When I asked if you were hurt anywhere else you told me that you had twisted your knee slightly and that was all."

Jason shrugged. Pasiphae frowned at the gesture. That was one of the first things he would have to be broken of. Royal princes _did not_ shrug like that; they answered properly and promptly. She looked at him disapprovingly. Jason looked back at her with a challenge in his eyes – eyes that were so like her own.

"They're nearly healed," he said coldly. "I didn't see the need for you to know my business."

Pasiphae's face froze.

"When I ask you a question I expect an honest answer," she snapped.

"Why?" Jason retorted.

"Because I am your mother _and_ your Queen," Pasiphae answered.

Jason snorted.

"You're not my mother," he said angrily. "You're just the woman who gave birth to me."

Pasiphae recoiled as though he had hit her and for a moment Jason felt inexplicably guilty. He should not care what she thought, he reminded himself, and yet there was something in her eyes – a half forgotten sorrow – that caught at his heart.

"I'm sorry," he muttered. "That was uncalled for. I shouldn't have said it."

The Queen smiled bitterly.

"But it _is_ how you feel," she said hoarsely.

Jason sighed.

"Yes," he admitted. "I'm sorry but it is… You see where I come from a mother is someone who looks after you… who loves you… You don't even really know me and I certainly don't get the feeling that you like me very much."

"I do not pretend to know you well," Pasiphae answered, "but that does not mean that I do not wish to." She paused and looked down thoughtfully at the table top for a moment. "Come," she said presently, her tone soft and reasonable, "there are many things that we need to discuss but I believe that it would be better to do so from the comfort of your room."

She half-smiled as Jason stiffened at the mention of a room of his own. He turned to regard her with a wary expression.

"Will there be guards on the door?" he asked softly.

Pasiphae could not help but recoil again. Did he really trust their intentions that little?

"No," she snapped. "You gave your word that you would do your duty. I am relying on your sense of honour in this matter. I would hope that you would keep your word and remain here of your own free will while you receive instruction in how to deal with Anaxandros. If nothing else I would dearly love to teach you some manners."

She stood suddenly and paced over to the window, trying to regain control of her temper. Antagonising Jason would not help matters, she firmly reminded herself. The boy already had little reason to trust her and was bordering on being openly hostile. If she was to develop any sort of relationship with him then they would both need to put their differences aside and start again from the beginning – and much as she believed that Jason could be her way of maintaining control over Atlantis for the next generation she really _did_ want to form a bond; to have a proper mother/son relationship with him.

A gentle, almost hesitant touch on her arm made her spin around. Jason had apparently limped over to her and had reached out hesitantly to get her attention. As she turned he let his hand fall and stood looking at her, biting his lip. Once again the Queen was struck by how young he seemed.

"I'm sorry," the young man murmured. "I haven't really made the best impression have I?"

"Today has been a shock," Pasiphae answered, reaching out to brush his brown curls away from his face and gratified to note that he did not immediately pull away – although his eyes still looked a little wild. "I understand that. It is not so very easy for me either."

Jason nodded shyly.

"Could we start again please?" he asked.

"Why?" Pasiphae said. "You have made it quite clear that you do not see me as your mother."

"No," Jason admitted. "I don't… not yet anyway… but maybe I could." He glanced across to the couch where his friends sat watching him anxiously and smiled faintly. "Pythagoras said that maybe I should give you a chance to get to know me… that maybe this was an opportunity… the chance to find out about my family… to be part of a family."

Pasiphae looked across to the skinny young man sitting alongside his bulkier older friend with a frown. Why would he have counselled Jason to give her the benefit of the doubt? As far as she could see there would be nothing really in it for him. Surely he must realise that if his friend followed this path he would be removed from them? Could anyone really be that selfless? All her experience said not, and yet she had followed her son in secret often enough to see just how close he was to his two friends. For a moment she felt a brief irrational surge of jealousy which she fought to hide. Soon enough these two would be gone from Jason's life. No matter how close they appeared to be now things would inevitably change the more her son came to accept his place in the court; to accept his role in life. He would come to realise that his current associations were far below him. It seemed almost inevitable that these men, as close as they seemed right now, would one day seek to exploit their current relationship with Jason and she would be ready and waiting when they did.

"Then we do indeed have much to discuss," she said. "For now though I believe you are supposed to be resting. I will show you to your chamber."

Jason hesitated.

"The King said that my friends could stay," he began.

"I have not forgotten," Pasiphae answered sharply. "There is a guest chamber adjoining your room where your _friends_ should be comfortable enough. It should certainly be more comfortable than anything they are used to." She could not help the slight sneer as she spoke of his friends.

Jason bit down on the surge of anger he felt at the way the Queen spoke of Pythagoras and Hercules. Their social status might mean that they meant little to her but they were important to him. Couldn't she at least _try_ to be polite for his sake? Before he could say anything though the Queen had turned away, heading towards the door of the room and clearly expecting him to follow.

As he turned to follow her his injured leg betrayed him again, the knee nearly giving way as he clung to the wall for support. Hercules was there in an instant, ready to provide a strong arm and a broad shoulder without comment, merely raising his eyebrows in exasperation. Jason smiled wryly and draped his arm across the big man's shoulders, leaning his weight into his friend to take the pressure off his once again throbbing knee. Pasiphae looked at him grimly and Jason found himself suddenly inexplicably nervous of his mother's reaction. She made no comment however, and simply gestured towards the door with the impatient instruction that they should follow her.

It was perhaps fortunate that the room Pasiphae led them to was not far from the one they had been in. They walked in silence down a brightly lit and beautifully painted corridor, through a large vestibule where ornate benches surrounded a small indoor pool, the surface glinting with the reflected light from the torches that lined the walls, and into another corridor so similar to the first that for a second Jason thought they had simply turned around and gone back the way they had come. There were subtle differences in the decorations though he noticed, the blues and greens that highlighted the acanthus border slightly different in shade to those in the previous corridor. Ahead of them Pasiphae had stopped and turned. She sighed and tapped her foot impatiently, clearly irritated at the pace they were walking at. Well she was just going to have to be irritated, Jason thought grimly. He was moving as fast as he could – wasn't intentionally dawdling – but with what amounted to only one properly working leg he simply couldn't move as fast as usual. Earlier he had been able to fake it; to force himself to move at his usual speed to follow the servant to the chamber where they had met with the King. Now though he had been sitting down for too long and his knee had stiffened considerably. Still he couldn't help but try to speed up a little, feeling sweat breaking out on his forehead with the effort.

As they drew level with the Queen she fixed Jason with a hard look, clearly less than impressed that he had not told her the full extent of his injuries – even if he _was_ healing. It should not have been down to his friend to tell her, she thought with more than a little annoyance. With a swift movement she pushed open the door to a chamber and gestured impatiently for her son to enter.

Once they were inside Jason could feel his friends looking about themselves with wide eyed wonder at the richness and elegance of the room they had been brought to. Under other circumstances he might even have joined them but right now his attention was solely fixed on the large and extremely comfortable looking bed that rested in the middle of the far wall and seemed to be calling his name. For once in his life he was actually longing to do as he was told and follow the orders prescribed by the doctor. Anything that stopped his knee hurting quite so much would be more than welcome.

"No doubt you will wish to freshen yourself," Pasiphae said calmly as she followed the three men into the room. "I have sent a servant to bring warm water and you will find clean clothes in the trunk at the end of the bed."

Jason didn't like to ask whose clothes they were or where they had come from. Perhaps his mother had arranged for them to be purchased in advance as soon as she had discovered his identity. Somehow that thought made him scowl. She shouldn't have simply assumed he would be coming here; that he would have no choice in the matter.

"I will leave you for a short time," the Queen continued. "I will return when you are refreshed and more suitably attired." She swept from the room before Jason could answer her.

The young man watched her go with a sigh. With everything that had happened so far today he felt emotionally wrung out and the day was far from over yet. He looked longingly at the bed again, wondering if he could slip into it, pull the covers over his head and pretend that today was just a bad dream.

"Well that was… awkward," Hercules rumbled, still acting as a human crutch for his younger friend. "Still we might as well make use of their hospitality for a bit."

Jason turned back towards him and snorted a short laugh.

"That's better," Hercules said. "I thought you'd forgotten how to smile for a while there." He looked seriously at Jason. "Just say the word and we'll get out of here," he offered. "We'll find a way out of the city somehow."

"I can't," Jason sighed. "I gave my word."

"To a paranoid King and his power-hungry witch of a Queen. Do you really think you had much choice in the matter," the burly wrestler pointed out.

"Hercules!" Pythagoras exclaimed primly. "That's his mother and stepfather you are talking about."

Jason couldn't stop himself from bursting out laughing.

"I'm sorry," he said in response to the mathematician's startled look. "It's just that this is just so insane. When I woke up this morning the biggest thing I had to worry about was trying to avoid Hercules' lecture until we got home…"

"Don't think you've got out of that one," Hercules growled.

"And now it turns out that I'm the King's stepson," Jason continued, completely ignoring the fact that Hercules had even spoken, "and I'm being expected to introduce myself to a rival King once my mother – who just happens to be an evil witch – has 'instructed' me in proper behaviour. It's completely mad… like some kind of weird dream." He sobered suddenly and looked at his friends with haunted eyes. "Only it's not a dream is it? It's really happening."

"Yes," Pythagoras said softly. "It really _is_ happening." He sighed. "But I do not believe that the situation is _all_ bad. After all Minos could have reacted in a very different way. As it is he has not been unkind… and Pasiphae _does_ at least seem to want to get to know you."

"Yeah I suppose you're right," Jason answered with an attempt at a smile. He nodded at the trunk. "What do you think she's left in there?"

"There's only one way to find out," Hercules said.

Jason nodded in agreement and then grunted slightly as he put a little more weight on his leg, moving over to the bed with his older friend's help and sinking down onto the mattress. Oh God he hadn't felt anything this soft since he arrived in Atlantis. Part of him wanted to flop back just to see if it felt as good when he was lying down – somehow he suspected it would. He sighed. The bed might be comfortable but he didn't really feel it was _his_. In fact the whole room felt cold somehow in spite of the cheerfully crackling fire; it was beautiful but it felt impersonal – like a hotel room almost. The one thing it most definitely was not was home. Home was a shabby little place just to the north of the Canopic Way, cluttered but cosy. He smiled softly to himself at the thought. The sooner they could get away from here and back home the better.

Pythagoras had wandered over to the trunk at the end of the bed and was examining it. The box appeared to be made of oak and was bound with bronze straps. On the lid a relief of Poseidon was carved and highlighted with tortoiseshell. He cautiously opened the lid and stared at the contents. Inside the trunk someone had carefully folded several tunics, pairs of trousers, night shirts and undergarments. They were all of the finest quality and made to the highest standards. Pythagoras delicately unfolded one of the tunics and held it up. The material that it was made of was light and soft but clearly warm, designed to provide it's wearer with maximum comfort and cosiness.

Jason looked up with little interest. Clothes had never really bothered him to be honest; had never really been his thing. As long as they kept him fairly warm and weren't too worn out he was happy. He had to admit though that whoever had picked out the tunic Pythagoras was currently holding up had put some thought into it. While the garment was clearly expensive it was far simpler in design than the somewhat ornate costumes worn by the royal family. The dark red colour would probably suit him very well while allowing him to slip back into the background in a way that the brighter blues favoured by the Atlantian royals did not. Actually Jason was quite touched by the amount of consideration that had gone into selecting just that one single tunic. Whoever had done it (and somehow he had a sneaking suspicion that it had been Pasiphae) had clearly been thinking about what he would like and not just about appearances in front of the court. He smiled and reached out to take the shirt from Pythagoras, noticing how soft the material felt against his skin.

As Pythagoras reached back into the trunk to pull out a suitable pair of trousers, a servant entered carrying a large and steaming basin of water which she placed on a table alongside the bed. Jason looked at it longingly, realising for the first time just how grubby he actually felt. The run through the streets last night followed by the battle with the slavers had made him perspire heavily and there had been no real washing facilities at the Temple this morning and no time to use any that there were. He felt grimy and sticky but was loathe to begin undressing with the young serving girl still in the room. Stripping off his tunic might be alright (although he wasn't entirely sure how Pasiphae would view his approach to semi-nudity) but there was no way on earth he was willing to go any further. The first servant was followed by a second, bearing a set of storm shutters. Jason resisted the urge to growl in frustration.

"Her Majesty has instructed me to put up the storm shutters," the man explained almost apologetically seeing the frustrated look on Jason's face. "The weather is closing in again and the Queen wished both this chamber and the guest quarters next door to be kept warm My Lord."

Jason blinked in confusion. He realised with growing horror that the servant was referring to him in his address.

"I'm not a lord," he protested.

The servant looked confused.

"Her Majesty informed me that you were to be treated as a noble guest My Lord," he said.

Jason opened his mouth to protest again but changed his mind at the last moment. There really was no point in confusing this poor man so he would play along with Pasiphae's game for now.

"Thank you," he said genuinely.

Task accomplished the servant bowed and left the room, leaving Jason and his friends alone once more. With a smile that was almost beatific Jason almost dreamily began to strip off his breastplate and tunic and dipped the fingers of one hand delicately into the steaming bowl. The water was almost perfect in temperature he noticed as he prepared to sponge away the grime of the day.

* * *

By the time Pasiphae re-entered her son's chamber she had her emotions once more under strict control. She had used the brief respite to calm and refresh herself and now felt ready to face any challenges that Jason might present. Gently pushing the door open she paused unseen in the doorway, silently observing the scene in front of her.

Jason appeared to be a lot more comfortable and relaxed than he had been earlier. The little lines of worry and pain that she had not even been aware were there had eased away. The boy had clearly done as he had been told and freshened up, changing into a set of clothes from the trunk at the foot of the bed. Pasiphae allowed herself a small smile. She had been right; the red material she had picked out for that tunic suited him very well indeed and for a moment she was struck by his sheer beauty. Dressed in the clothes she had arranged he looked every inch a young prince and his mother couldn't help but stand and drink in the sight; a sight she had never really dared to allow herself to hope that she would see.

He was sitting up in bed, resting on top of the covers, with plump pillows behind his back and others gently raising his bad knee. As she watched he pulled a small comb through his hair, grimacing occasionally as the teeth caught in a particularly recalcitrant knot at the nape of his neck.

"I keep telling you, you wouldn't have this trouble if you'd just go and get your hair cut," his older friend rumbled. The bulky man was lounging on a stool near the fire with a cup of wine in one hand and a set of dice which he idly tossed into the air from time to time in the other.

"It's fine," Jason protested. Then the teeth of the comb caught in his hair again and he grunted slightly.

The big man raised his eyebrows.

"You look like a bandit," he said flatly. "Only outcasts, criminals or Spartans have hair that long. No respectable citizen goes about looking like that and I can't see the King or Queen letting you get away with it for long either. Surely it's better to make your own decision before they force one on you?" he added cajolingly.

"Don't start," Jason said with a sigh. "I know you mean well but it's my life and I don't need you nagging me."

Pasiphae frowned. She stayed completely still, still hovering in the doorway unseen by her son or his friends. Perhaps it would be a good idea to listen to their conversation; to gain more insight into her son's personality. It appeared that this was an argument that they had had before and as she did indeed wish to see that her son looked respectable and received the haircut that he so clearly needed it would be worth her while to listen to the tactics his friends employed – if only so that she could tackle the problem from a different angle. It was not eavesdropping, it was merely gathering information.

"Why are we arguing about this again?" the skinny clever one of the trio asked as he looked up from the desk in the far corner of the room where he had been chopping herbs that Pasiphae decided he must have obtained from a servant. He mixed them into a cup and made his way over to the bed, perching on the edge alongside his dark haired friend.

"Because this is nobody's business but mine," Jason said. "It's my choice and I really don't see how whether or not I have my hair cut is anything to do with anybody else. If I want to grow it long then I will." He looked suspiciously at the cup Pythagoras was holding. "What's that?"

The young genius rolled his eyes and sighed.

"It is wine fortified with painkilling herbs," he answered primly. "It should help both with the pain in your knee and with the headache that you have been trying to hide from me for some time."

"What makes you think I have a headache?" Jason countered, although Pasiphae noticed that he still took the cup his friend proffered.

"Because I know you Jason," his skinny friend said firmly. "I have caught you rubbing your temples several times and you only ever do that when you have a headache. I would guess that it is not too bad at present as you are not yet squinting and trying to avoid light but I would like to nip it in the bud nevertheless."

Jason laughed ruefully.

"You know me too well," he murmured. He drained the cup and handed it back to his friend. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," the young blonde answered. "I still do not see why this is such a problem though. You have been forced to listen to Hercules' nagging for two months now," he ignored his older friend's spluttering, "surely it would be easier to simply give in over something that is so unimportant? And Hercules is right. I have not liked to say anything until now because as you say this is your business but respectable men do not wear their hair this long. It is a custom in Sparta I believe but no reasonable man should want to look like one of those savages."

Jason glared at both his friends mulishly. As he dropped his head forwards his dark curls fell into his eyes and he flicked them back with annoyance, much to Hercules' amusement.

"I just don't like getting my hair cut," he said flushing slightly.

"Why not?" Pythagoras asked with confusion. "It is not an activity that is particularly unpleasant… although I would admit that it can be tedious at times."

Jason looked down at his lap.

"Bad memories," he admitted slowly.

"How can you have bad memories about getting your hair cut?" Pythagoras queried.

Jason bit his lip and drew his uninjured leg up, clasping his hands under the knee.

"Do you remember when I told you about going to live with Chloe and Alexander?" he asked obliquely.

"You said that they were kind… that you enjoyed living with them," Pythagoras answered, frowning at the apparent sudden change of subject.

"Do you remember _why_ I said I went to live with them?"

"You said something about a bad foster mother," Hercules rumbled, his face darkening as it always did when he thought about the dark times both of his young friends had lived through as children.

"Yeah," Jason said softly. "Her name was… actually it doesn't really matter what her name was. I went there when I was a little bit more than six and lived with her for the next seven or eight months. She didn't like me very much." He smiled ruefully. "I wasn't tidy enough for her… I guess I've always been a bit scruffy… and I didn't really play with other children like I was supposed to… I preferred to play on my own… and she used to get cross a lot. I never seemed to be able to do anything right. She used to shout at me all the time… I'd forget to take my shoes off when I came into the house or I'd spill something down my top… and there was this one time when I knocked a cup over… I didn't know it was there and I hit it with my elbow… it was only water but it went all over the floor. She was _so_ angry… I got locked in the under stairs cupboard for that one." He looked up to see Pythagoras staring at him in horror. "Hey it wasn't so bad," he told the mathematician. "She let me out again and she could have done things that were a lot worse."

"How long were you in there?" Hercules growled.

Jason shrugged.

"The whole afternoon I think… she let me out in time to go to bed," he looked down in embarrassment. "It was my own fault… I should have been more careful. Anyway she didn't really like my hair. It wasn't neat enough for her and got tangled too easily. She used to sit me down several times a day and drag a comb through my hair but it never stayed as neat as she wanted it to. Then one day I guess she'd had enough. She was trying to get a comb through but it kept getting stuck and she got more and more frustrated. In the end she threw the comb across the room, dragged me to the kitchen table and held me in place while she cut my hair as close to my head as she could manage… They took me away from her a few days after that. I've never really liked having my hair cut ever since. It's silly I know but it always makes me think of _her_."

Jason lapsed into silence. He'd never really talked about Mrs Johnstone with anybody before – not even Chloe and Alex. Here with his friends it felt right, however, and he was surprised to realise that the memories no longer hurt. They were where they belonged – in the past.

"I'm sorry," Hercules rumbled. "I didn't realise that was why you kept saying no. I thought you were just being stubborn on principle." The dice he had been tossing and catching idly earlier were now discarded on the low table alongside him as he leant forward, his broad face serious and sympathetic.

"Why would you?" Jason asked. "It's not the sort of thing that happens everyday… at least I hope not." He paused for a moment. "I know it's stupid," he admitted. "It's just it's not something I really enjoy. I tend to put it off for as long as possible… normally until my hair's in my eyes and I can't ignore it anymore… and yes I know it's not far off being that long now. It's finding someone to cut it too… I mean where I used to live there was this little old boy in the town and I got to know him pretty well so I'd go there whenever I needed a haircut… but here I don't know where to go…"

Pythagoras steepled his fingers thoughtfully.

"What if it was someone you trusted?" he asked with a faint smile.

"What do you mean?" Jason asked.

"We gave several barbers in the city," Pythagoras said softly. "Some of whom I know… and know that they are excellent men. I think though that you might prefer a friend to a stranger." He smiled. "With our usual financial difficulties there has been little extra to spare over the last few years and I have become reasonably proficient at cutting both Hercules' and indeed my own hair. Perhaps you would trust me enough to allow me to do the same with you."

Jason bit his lip and looked down at the bed before raising his head to smile at Pythagoras, his eyes grateful for the understanding both his friends had shown once again. He reached out and caught the young genius' hand in a firm grip.

"Thank you," he said simply.

In the doorway Pasiphae seethed silently. To hear a little of the way her son had been brought up made her blood boil. While she did not believe that she would ever have been an indulgent mother she would not have been as monumentally unfair and unjust towards Jason as the woman who he had been talking about had been. _Her_ discipline would have been tempered with love. She would certainly never have locked a child in a cupboard for an entire afternoon for what amounted to no more than an accident. There were other far more effective ways of disciplining a child without traumatising them. The next time she encountered Aeson she was going to make him wish he had never been born for abandoning her boy to that sort of life.

This was doing no good, however. It was time to alert Jason to her presence; time to begin the conversation that she knew they needed to have; time to make her son understand that she did not wish to harm him no matter what he believed. She pulled the door firmly closed behind her, making enough noise to let the occupants of the room know she was there, creating the illusion that she had just arrived.

Jason, she noticed with a silent sigh, tensed immediately. Softening her face into a gentle, maternal smile, Pasiphae swept forwards, looking around the room with approval at the cheerfully crackling fire and the tightly closed storm shutters. The servants it seemed had done their jobs properly for once.

"Jason," she said, her tone mellow and warm. "I am glad to see that you are refreshed and resting as you are supposed to. Now I believe there is much for us to discuss… many stories that need to be told."

"I thought that I was here to learn how to fool Anaxandros into believing I'm a prince," Jason responded.

"You _are_ a prince whether you like it or not," Pasiphae answered softly. "Time is indeed short and you have much to learn yet I do not believe that our conversation can wait any longer." She turned to look at her son's friends coldly. "You may leave us," she instructed loftily.

Jason's face hardened.

"The King said that my friends were free to come and go as they please," he said flatly. "I would like them to stay."

Pasiphae drew in an irritated breath. Was every conversation between them going to be a battle, she wondered.

"Many of the matters I wish to speak of are both private and personal," she said sharply. "I do not want them to be bandied about the nearest tavern the next time your friend is taken with drink." She gave Hercules a hard and suspicious look.

"My friends would never betray me," Jason bit back.

"Jason it is fine," Pythagoras interjected peaceably. "We will only be in the room next door. We will come back as soon as Her Majesty is finished."

"There now," Pasiphae said. "Your friend can see reason at least."

Jason looked down at the bed, gnawing lightly on his lower lip. This was another habit he would need to be broken of Pasiphae thought grimly. He looked up suddenly without warning, his eyes wide.

"Isosceles," he gasped.

"A triangle?" Pasiphae said in confusion. "What on earth are you talking about?" For a brief moment she wondered with horror if Jason really was not quite right in the head.

"The cat," her son clarified, although Pasiphae didn't find the response particularly enlightening. "She's been on her own all night and this morning too. We didn't even leave any food out for her."

"Don't worry," Pythagoras said firmly. "I will return home to feed your kitten. I will even bring her back here if you want. I must return home to collect some essential items for myself and Hercules for the next few days. Besides Cinyras wanted you to use crutches for the next two days anyway and they are at home. I will bring them back here." He glanced at their older friend. "Hercules will remain here at the Palace… although he will retire to the chamber that has been loaned to us while you are speaking to Her Majesty."

" _Could_ you bring Isosceles back here?" Jason asked. "I don't like to think of her being on her own… she's only a baby."

"Absolutely not!" Pasiphae exclaimed. "We do not keep pets in this house. Your friends may return to their home each day to feed her… or if you feel she requires company then they may remain there with her."

Jason turned to gaze at his mother, his eyes wide and imploring. Pasiphae's heart caught in her throat at the expression on his face and felt her resolve weakening without her even being aware that it had happened. What harm could one little kitten actually do, she wondered. And it did seem to mean so very much to him.

"If I agree to allow you to bring the creature here it must remain in your chamber," she found herself saying, "and if it does the slightest bit of damage I will personally have it removed… permanently."

"Of course," Jason agreed with a half-smile.

Behind the Queen Hercules was grinning openly. Pasiphae, it seemed, was no more immune than anyone else to the devastating effects of Jason's puppy-eyed look. The thing that always amazed the burly wrestler was that Jason was clearly unaware he was doing it. He shuddered to think what might happen if the boy ever learned how to use that look deliberately.

"I will go and fetch Isosceles now then," Pythagoras said. "I will return shortly and Hercules will only be in the next chamber." He smiled at Jason and then turned to push Hercules from the room.

Alone at last Pasiphae drew a chair up alongside her son's bed and sat down in it pointedly ignoring the slightly suspicious look that now graced Jason's face.

"Well then," she said gently, "where shall we begin?"

Jason shrugged.

"That is not an answer," Pasiphae could not help but chide sharply, "and it is a habit that must end now. Princes do not shrug. Nor do they bite their lips _or_ their fingernails," she added looking disapprovingly at the ragged nails of her son's hands.

Jason looked down at the bed again, only to find a soft had grasping his chin firmly and tilting his head back up.

"Keep your head up at all times when you are in places where you might be observed," Pasiphae instructed. "Do not give your enemies the satisfaction of seeing you falter."

"Are you my enemy then?" Jason asked quietly.

"No," the Queen answered. "I am not."

They lapsed into silence for a few moments.

"When did you find out?" Jason burst out suddenly. "That I'm your son I mean. Did you always know?"

Pasiphae closed her eyes briefly. For a moment she considered creating a story but her son deserved the truth; his life had already been made up of too many lies.

"No," she answered. "I did not know. I believed you to be dead. That you had been killed as child… little more than a baby… the last time I saw you, you were only just learning to walk." She paused. "You have no memory of me at all do you?" she asked sadly.

"No," Jason responded. "I'm sorry."

"I did not really think you would. You were simply too young when you were stolen from me. I only learned of your identity during the incident with the brazen bull."

"When you tried to have Ariadne murdered you mean?" Jason asked contemptuously.

"I will make no apologies for my actions to you," Pasiphae retorted sharply. "What is done is done and we cannot change things now. Ariadne and I have come to an… accommodation. We will never be friends but perhaps we are no longer the implacable enemies that we once were." She hesitated again. "I tried with Ariadne," she said. "I wanted to be a mother to her but she rejected me at every turn. Resented the fact that I had married her father; resented my presence in her life."

"I don't believe you."

"Believe what you will but it is nonetheless true," Pasiphae snapped. She took a deep breath, determined not to lose her temper so early in their conversation.

Jason looked off towards the fire. He hadn't really looked at the Queen since the conversation had begun. Pasiphae sighed. She had known that this would be difficult but she hadn't really anticipated how difficult it would actually be. Her son was making no attempt whatsoever to hide the fact that he'd rather be pretty much anywhere other than talking to her. Was this really how it was going to be? She hadn't been naïve enough to believe that there would be an instant bond between them yet she had hoped that he would at least be willing to try.

"How did you find out who I was to you?" Jason's soft voice startled her out of her thoughts.

Pasiphae hesitated.

"Your father told me," she answered gently.

"My father?" Jason burst out incredulously. "He's alive then… She even lied to me about that," he added bitterly.

"Who?"

"The Oracle." The words were almost spat out. "She told me he was dead."

Pasiphae could hear the anger and bitterness darkening his tone. Much as she hated to do anything which might ultimately be for the Oracle's benefit she hated to think of her son's bright personality – his open and kind heart – being twisted into something darker and more cynical even more.

 _It's bound to happen_ , the cynical part of her said. _Life will eventually destroy his innocence; will chew it up and spit it out and then what will he be? He will be corrupted in the end as all men are. He will learn to hate; will learn the pleasure that can only be found through power._

 _But he is not like that_ , the mother in her protested. _He is different; special._

 _Every mother thinks her child is special_ , her cynical side countered.

 _But mine is_ , the mother argued. _He is touched by the Gods. Perhaps one day he will darken but not yet._

"What did the Oracle actually tell you?" she found herself asking.

"She told me that my father walked among the dead," Jason answered, his tone still coloured by anger.

Pasiphae snorted and shook her head.

"The Oracle is clever indeed," she murmured. She looked at Jason and saw that he was watching her out of the corner of his eye. "She may have mislead you but she did not lie to you," she said.

"How so?"

"She did not actually tell you that your father was dead. She allowed you to draw that conclusion for yourself. It was the natural thing for you to believe given her words… but it meant that if you ever found out the truth she could simply claim that you had misinterpreted what she meant."

"And what did she mean?"

Pasiphae smiled softly as her son turned to face her fully.

"She told you that your father walked among the dead," she answered. "I believe she was referring to the living dead."

"To lepers," Jason breathed. He looked at Pasiphae sharply. "My father is a leper?"

"Yes," Pasiphae responded. "In the woods, when my men were hunting Ariadne, you were… incapacitated. I ordered my soldiers to find Ariadne… told them I would deal with you myself… your father came to me then and informed me of your identity."

"But who…" Jason began before trailing off as his mind turned everything over. "Tychon," he said flatly.

"I do not know the name that Aeson goes by now but it may well be that he is this Tychon that you speak of," Pasiphae said.

"Why didn't he tell me?" Jason said, his voice catching a little. "He must have known who I was from the moment he met me. Why didn't he tell me who he was?"

The Queen's breath caught in her throat at the utter devastation in her son's voice; at the desperation and heart aching innocence in his tone.

"I do not pretend to know Aeson's mind," she murmured, "but I can tell you that your father loved you from the moment you were born."

"So why did he leave me if he loved me so much?"

"I do not know," Pasiphae answered simply. "That is a question you must ask him. He told me that when Minos usurped the throne he had taken you to a place of safety far away from Atlantis; somewhere where I would never find you. He did not want you to be caught up in the battle for the throne." She shook her head bitterly. "Anymore than that you must ask _him_."

"You hate him don't you?" Jason muttered.

"I will never forgive him for stealing my child," Pasiphae answered. "For allowing me to believe you were dead; for making me grieve. I despised Aeson before this and he has hardly endeared himself to me by his actions."

Jason looked back moodily at the fireplace. His mind was still reeling with the news that his father was still alive. Part of him longed to run and find the man; to revel in the warmth and affection that he remembered vaguely from his early childhood; to _be_ a child again, certain of his father's love and safe in his company. Yet the larger part was angry – oh so angry. How could the Dad he remembered imperfectly have done this to him? If his father had left because he knew he was going to die then Jason could have understood his abandonment. But to discover that the man had been alive all along? To know that he had _chosen_ to leave? That hurt more than he was willing to admit – especially to a woman who had so recently been his enemy. And what was she now? Perhaps not his enemy, but his mother? No, he decided, not yet. The child in him still yearned for the love of a family of his own; the joy of parental approval and comfort. The adult in him urged caution.

"What do you want of me?" he asked Pasiphae.

"I want to know you," his mother answered. "I want there to be understanding between us."

Jason snorted.

"That's not all you want though is it," he stated.

"No," Pasiphae admitted. "I want you to know who you are; to know your place in this world. I want you to know where you came from and to accept your destiny."

"Destiny," Jason muttered. "That's a word that people seem to be a bit too fond of using around here." He looked at her sharply. "What is it that _you_ see my destiny as?"

"You are the son of a King," Pasiphae answered. "By rights you are the true heir to the throne. I would have you accept your birth-right and take your rightful place within this family."

"And wouldn't Minos have something to say about that?" Jason asked acutely. "I don't think he'd be very happy for me to take Ariadne's place even if I wanted to… which I don't by the way."

"Ariadne is young but she must marry," Pasiphae murmured. "It would be better for her to marry a son of this city than the younger son of a rival King; to have Atlantis potentially come under the influence of a rival state." She looked at her son with her eyebrows raised. "Surely you would not object to that?"

Jason's breath caught in his throat.

"Doesn't Ariadne get any say in this?" he demanded.

"Ariadne knows where her duty lies," Pasiphae answered sharply. "As I would hope do you. Can you honestly tell me that you have not dreamed of a day when you could be free to worship Ariadne publically? That you do not want her?"

"What I want is for Ariadne to be allowed to make her own choice," Jason snapped.

Pasiphae laughed.

"You really are naïve aren't you?" she asked. "Ariadne is heir to the throne. Her marriage must be about more than love. It must be to the benefit of Atlantis."

"Is that what your marriage to my father was?" Jason asked sharply. "A politically arranged match for the sake of a city?"

Pasiphae nearly gasped.

"Did you _ever_ love each other?" Jason pressed.

"It was complicated," Pasiphae answered shortly. The last thing she really wanted to do was discuss her relationship with her ex-husband; to even allow him that much of her own _or_ her son's lives. "My father had recently died and my brother was still very young… too young to take the throne really… and yet he was King. Under the circumstances Colchis was weak… easy prey for a stronger power… and we desperately needed all the allies we could get. My older sister was already in Atlantis in a position of some authority. She commanded respect and her suggestions were listened to. King Cretheus was seeking a bride for his son… for Aeson… and my sister suggested that I might be suitable. It was an important alliance which would ensure the safety of Colchis and provide a new trading partner for Atlantis. I was young… younger than Ariadne is now… and I came here as a bride never even having met my husband-to-be."

"And that's what you want for Ariadne? For me?"

"You at least know one another and have formed an… attachment I am led to believe. Surely it will better for Ariadne than marriage to a man she has not even met?" Pasiphae snapped, her eyes flashing dangerously. "Besides you would have to prove to Minos that you were suitable as both an heir and a potential husband for his daughter… and it will not be a straightforward task. You are clearly uncultured and lacking in even the most basic knowledge of social propriety… _or manners_ … and we have not even judged the level of education you might require. It would require a great deal of hard work for you to be trained in all you would need to be accepted by refined society."

"I don't think I can be what you want me to be," Jason answered. "I'm not Heptarian and I wouldn't want to be. I'm not good at doing as I'm told and I won't be anyone's puppet."

"And who exactly has asked you to be?" Pasiphae retorted sharply. "I was honest when I said that the thing I wanted first was to get to know you; for us to understand one another."

"It won't work though," Jason answered quietly. "We have nothing in common. You are you and I am me… we're simply too different."

"Does that mean that you are unwilling to even try? That you have no desire to find common ground between us? I still believe that we may have more in common than you think. We both want what is best for Atlantis."

"You want power," Jason snapped back. "I don't."

Pasiphae snorted.

"If nothing else it would appear that you have inherited my temper as well as my eyes," she said. She closed her eyes and sighed. When she opened them again her tone had softened noticeably. "I did not come here desiring an argument," she said softly. "I _do_ wish to know you no matter what you believe… and I want you to learn about your family; about your past. Whatever else may or may not come is at this point in time wholly unimportant." She lapsed into silence, her eyes filled with a distant and long-held sorrow.

Jason stared at her for a moment and swallowed hard.

"I don't really know how to be anyone's son," he found himself admitting a little plaintively.

"And I do not really know how to be anyone's mother," Pasiphae answered, her eyes soft and her tone maternal. It was the sort of voice that had inhabited Jason's earliest childhood fantasies when he had dreamed of having a mother like everyone else. "But I wish to learn to be _your_ mother. I want you to be happy."

"Maybe we could both try to learn then," Jason said quietly, looking earnestly at the Queen. A large part of him still feared her intentions, still feared _her_ , but there was a small, hopeful spark that rested somewhere in his heart that told him that it had to be worth it at least to try. If he never tried then he would never know.

Pasiphae smiled gently. It was not perfect but it was a start, she decided. With trembling fingers she stretched out her hand to gently cup the back of her son's head.

"This is the start of a wonderful new chapter for all of us," she said tenderly. "The start of a wondrous future."

She paused and allowed her hand to stroke down through the back of her sons' curls, marvelling once again at how soft they felt against her palm, and brought it to rest gently on the back of his neck, massaging softly as she had noticed his larger friend doing in the Temple. Jason jumped but did not pull away, looking at her with wide eyes.

"I will leave you to rest for a while," the Queen continued. "It is time for the midday meal and my presence will be expected. I will arrange for food to be brought here for you." She smiled softly at Jason once again and allowed her hand to drop away from him. "I will return later to begin your instruction."

Jason stared after her as she glided gracefully out of the room, his mind whirling more rapidly than ever. He felt wrung out and worn down; angry, hurt, confused and yet hopeful. Could Pasiphae have meant any of what she had said? His mind said no; told him that she was a liar and would always remain that way. His heart, however, desperately wanted to believe that there was still some good in her; that everything she seemed to be offering was true. But what would it mean if it was? Would he be expected to leave his friends – to leave everything he had come to love behind – for the sake of a life that he still wasn't even sure he would ever want? He couldn't imagine leaving Pythagoras and Hercules; of no longer being part of their family.

Suddenly he wanted to see his friends perhaps more than he had ever wanted anything in his life. True Pythagoras was still in the city – was fetching things from their home – but Hercules was just next door. All he would have to do would be to get up and go into the next room and his big friend would be there with a friendly ear and a ready story – which would in all probability be wholly irrelevant to the situation but would still make him smile.

Hercules wouldn't be very happy if he did get up though – and he had a feeling that both Pasiphae and Minos might have something to say about it too… and after all this bed was incredibly comfortable and his knee _was_ still throbbing painfully. Perhaps on reflection it might be better to stay where he was and wait for his friends to come to him. Patience had never really been Jason's strong suit but right now it seemed like the best option. He tried to relax in spite of his frazzled emotions and painfully tried to ease his leg into a more comfortable position. There was a small bell on a stool next to the bed. With a sigh at the thought of anyone waiting on _him_ , Jason rang it and waited for a servant to appear so that he could ask them to go and alert Hercules to the fact that the Queen had gone and that it was safe to join him once more.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Once again thank you for the lovely comments. I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint too much. It's another monster in terms of length so I hope it's ok. Don't forget to let me know what you think...

Pasiphae strode into the dining room later than she would have liked to be. She had lingered too long with Jason and then afterwards had spent a little time ensuring that the servants knew the meal they took to him and his friends was to be of the same quality as the food they would deliver to the dining room for the royal family. Fortunately this would be a relatively intimate meal – just the King, Queen and Princess, several guards and half a dozen servants to ensure that plates were kept full and cups topped up. There would be no-one important there to witness Pasiphae's late arrival. Still she silently berated herself for her own lack of propriety in delaying her departure from Jason's side – she had never been able to stand lack of punctuality.

By the time she arrived in the dining room Minos and Ariadne were already seated and had begun their midday meal. Pasiphae took her customary seat at the King's right hand side. As she was seating herself Minos looked up with a question in his eyes which Pasiphae answered with a small smile. They had been married for long enough that they could communicate without words to a certain extent – a useful and necessary skill in a world where the servants relished any Palace gossip, spreading it among themselves like wildfire and using it as currency down in the city. Pasiphae made a mental note to warn Jason about the dangers of talking too much in front of the servants; of overfamiliarity with them. The boy was naïve and uncultured enough that he would undoubtedly try to make friends with the servants. Pasiphae shuddered at the thought. No, propriety and learning the importance of social hierarchy would be some of his first lessons.

From the far side of Minos, Ariadne watched the silent exchange between her father and stepmother with a faint scowl. The girl was clearly confused by their interaction, especially as she did not yet know of Jason's presence in the Palace or that her father knew of his true identity. She would have to be told, Pasiphae supposed, and soon – but for a few moments the Queen relished the knowledge she held over her stepdaughter. She had been honest when she had told Jason that she had come to an accommodation with Ariadne but it did not mean she liked the girl and she did enjoy seeing her nonplussed – Ariadne was a little too self-assured and smug for Pasiphae's liking much of the time. Of course as soon as she did know the truth Pasiphae was under no illusions that Ariadne would want to fly to Jason's side. Hopefully though her own sense of propriety would keep her from acting too hastily. Pasiphae could only imagine Minos' reaction if his daughter were to be found unchaperoned in a young man's room. She would have to make sure to emphasise to Ariadne that any blame from such a situation would undoubtedly fall on Jason and not her. The Queen was certain that Ariadne would take the point.

Minos looked around. Silent communication could only get them so far and there were things he clearly wanted to talk about with his wife. Fortunately perhaps they were in the small family dining room rather than the large chamber reserved for meals with the court or state occasions. With a curt command he ordered the servants and guards to leave, although the guards would undoubtedly remain just outside the door. It was not terribly unusual for him to do this – to give himself and his family a little privacy – and would therefore attract no comment. Once they were alone he turned back to his wife.

"You have situated the lad and his friends comfortably?" he asked.

"He is resting," Pasiphae answered. "I have ordered the midday meal to be served in his chambers. I did not believe that you would demand his attendance here when a doctor has determined that he should not be walking around." She hesitated. "Today has been a shock for him. I… believed that allowing him a little time alone might help him to adjust better. I hope I have done right My Lord."

To be truthful Pasiphae didn't really care whether Minos agreed with her decision or not. In her mind the only thing that mattered was Jason. Everything would hinge on his acceptance of his new position and the situation. Pasiphae hadn't been this uncertain of anything since she had arrived in Atlantis as a young bride to be married to a man she had never seen. She didn't much like the feeling. Nor did she like the knowledge that so much of heart – so much of her future happiness – rested in the hands of another person… even if that person _was_ her son. At least Jason had not realised how much power he held over her. For that Pasiphae thanked the Gods. At present the boy still feared her a little, for all he tried to pretend he was unafraid. Perhaps it was not her he feared though, she thought with a frown. From the tiny amount she had discovered of his background, perhaps what he truly feared was being hurt again. The Oracle had said that Jason did not trust easily and Pasiphae had seen for herself just how guarded he actually was. His larger friend had also said that the boy had known little in the way of family life or love before his arrival in Atlantis and Jason himself had told her that he didn't know how to be anyone's son. Perhaps then his fears really stemmed both from his previous dealings with her as Queen and a life lived alone and rejected.

Minos smiled softly at his wife.

"I believe that there is little to be gained by making the boy uncomfortable and unhappy," he said. "If we are to move forwards then it will be necessary to gain his trust and his cooperation. He will require a certain amount of patience as he adjusts. Time is running short, however, and we may not be able to give him all the space he would ideally need. The idea of leaving him to eat alone with his friends was a good one. It is a way in which we can give him a little time to himself before the hard work must begin. I would wish, under normal circumstances, for him to eat here with the family and there will come a time when it will be expected of him as it was of Heptarian. I do not believe though that it would be a good idea to place too many restrictions and expectations on the lad until he is more prepared for them. For now having him join us for a meal is not as important as other aspects of his… education."

"I am glad you feel that way My Lord," Pasiphae said demurely. "I have informed him that I will return after the midday meal to begin his instruction."

"I have no doubt you will undertake the task with your usual skill and ability," Minos murmured.

Ariadne had watched the exchange between her father and his wife with a slowly dawning suspicion. Now she needed to confirm whether or not it was true while still making the King believe that she knew nothing about the situation. If she were wrong then she did not want to risk alerting the King prematurely to Jason's existence.

"Father," she began, "I was not aware that we had any guests at present. Of whom were you speaking?"

Minos looked at his daughter affectionately. She was so beautiful and so innocent. He would give the world to make her happy and the knowledge that he might now be able to do so pleased him immensely. Still it would not pay to be too hasty. Jason had yet to prove his worth as a potential suitor for Ariadne. The boy was brave and loyal, Minos knew – but bravery and loyalty alone would not make him a suitable consort for the next Queen of Atlantis; would not make him a potential heir to the throne himself. As things stood it was no more than a possibility. For a start the lad had yet to show any indication that he would be willing to accept such a change in his status. He was still confused and hurt by everything he was being told and was clearly not yet ready to deal with any more being put upon his shoulders. No, it might be kinder to Jason to not give Ariadne too much hope. That way she would not put any additional pressure on the lad even inadvertently.

"Ariadne, do you remember the conversation we had a little over three months ago now when we discussed the affections that the young man who saved you from the brazen bull had for you?" the King asked gently. He did not like to remind his daughter of the events that had nearly led to her execution; did not want to risk triggering the hostilities between his wife and daughter that had almost led to such a horrific outcome or risk awakening what he was sure were unpleasant memories for the girl.

"Yes Father," Ariadne answered. "You ensured that I knew that nothing could happen between Jason and myself because of the difference in our social status and forbade me from ever seeing him again."

Minos nearly winced. His words sounded so hard and cruel when replayed through the filter of his daughter's memory and yet he had not meant them to be unkind in any way; had merely been pointing out the realities of the situation as he saw it at the time.

"It was alright," Ariadne noticed her father's discomfort and sought to reassure him. "I understood… I have always understood… I have always known that Jason and I could not be together; that I am a Princess of Atlantis and that it is my duty to marry for the benefit of the kingdom. I have always known that it would not necessarily be possible to follow my heart."

"You have always been a good and dutiful daughter," Minos answered with a soft smile. "I have something that I must tell you which may in time pertain to both the future of Atlantis and to your own future. Firstly, however, I must begin with a little history." He paused for a moment. Seeing that he had Ariadne's full attention he went on. "Many years ago… when you were still just a babe in arms… I became king. The Queen was at the time married to the old King and mother of a young son – a child who was little more than a baby himself. It was intended that the boy would be raised alongside you and Therus – would be treated as a royal prince and made a part of my household and my family. He would have grown up safe in the heart of this family as your brother. But it was not to be."

"He was killed when the Palace was taken," Ariadne murmured.

Minos frowned.

"I have never spoken of such matters to you," he began, "and I am certain that the Queen has not."

"There were rumours in the Palace when I was a little girl," Ariadne answered sadly. "The servants used to talk amongst themselves of a lost child; a prince who had died. When I was small I would dream that he was still alive; that he was my friend and would play with me. Therus was so much older and did not want to play with a little girl and Heptarian only enjoyed games of war. I used to imagine what my other brother would look like; I used to imagine that he was there playing games with me. I knew he was not really my brother of course – rather that he would have been my stepbrother if he had lived." She paused. "As I grew older I came to believe that the rumours were untrue, however. That I had been mistaken in what I had overheard and that the servants had not spoken about a lost prince; that the Queen had not really lost a child."

"I can assure you that the story was indeed true," her father said firmly. "I was there and I remember the grief that was caused by the loss of the boy." He paused again. "You must wonder why I am bringing this matter up now after so many years," he said. "The truth is that we have recently discovered that what we had been told about the death of the child was not entirely accurate. He had not been killed as we had always believed. Instead he was spirited away by his father; taken far beyond the borders of Atlantis to a place where we would never find him and abandoned there." The bitterness in the King's tone was noticeable.

Pasiphae looked at her husband with mild surprise. She had not expected him to sound so angry about her former husband's actions. On his other side Ariadne tensed, unsure whether his tone was due to Aeson's theft of his son or Jason's survival.

"It would appear," the King continued, "that the boy grew up without the least idea of who he was. As it turns out he returned to the city about a year ago. I am led to believe that he came in search of his father." He sighed. "It seems that the young man who slew the Minotaur and saved you from the brazen bull – Jason – is Pasiphae's son; my stepson. He had cause to find out his true identity earlier today and it has understandably come as something of a shock. The boy had apparently sustained an injury to his leg several days ago which he has strained further in a successful attempt to save a group of children from slavers last night. As he has been advised to rest for now chambers have been set aside for his use," he smiled softly. "His arrival is fortuitous as it seems I will require his help in dealing with Anaxandros."

"How so?" Ariadne asked, looking suitably shocked. Pasiphae had to applaud the girl's playacting ability. If she had not known better she would really have believed that Ariadne had no idea whose son Jason was; that she was stunned by the turn of events.

As the King launched into an explanation of the clause to the peace treaty that had provided Anaxandros with an excuse for the Amphigeneian invasion, Pasiphae allowed her mind to wander back over her conversation with her son. On the basis of today's interactions did she dare to hope that one day Jason might come to see her as his mother? Might happily stand at her side? Yes, she decided, she could see him in that role; in that place. He might not be comfortable with her yet but at least he was not pulling away – although the cynical part of Pasiphae noted that with the injury he had sustained he would have difficulty walking away from her at present anyway.

"Pasiphae?" Minos' deep voice drew her from her thoughts once more.

"I am sorry My Lord," Pasiphae responded sharply, annoyed that she had been caught daydreaming.

"I merely wished to enquire whether you had managed to have the conversation you desired with your son."

Pasiphae felt a little frisson of pleasure at hearing another person refer to "her son". Stop it, she silently berated herself. You are acting like a silly young girl. You cannot afford to give in to your emotions now; you cannot afford that weakness.

"I did," she answered slowly. "It was… difficult… painful. He has been lied to by so many people… has been hurt so badly… he does not trust me; fears my intentions. He told me that he does not believe that any relationship between us can work … and yet he has indicated that he is still willing to try. I do not yet know how to get through to him." It was hard admitting her uncertainty to her husband; to show any level of vulnerability to anyone.

Minos hesitated for a moment, unsure how well Pasiphae would take advice in this most personal of matters. In some ways his wife was an intensely private person and the King had the feeling that she would view her son as her province; would jealously guard her right to instruct the boy; would not brook even perceived criticism of her dealings with him. Yet she had never seemed more vulnerable than she did at this moment, not even when she had lost her child and the first storms of grief had taken her – and to the King's eyes she had never been lovelier than she was in this moment. It would not last of course. Sooner or later the fearsome and self-assured Queen of Atlantis would re-emerge but for now her uncertainty clearly showed. It was obvious to Minos just how much she longed for the chance to be a mother to her son and how much she dreamed of him loving her in return. It would not be interference to advise her, he decided. It would simply be using his experience with his own children – the long years of fatherhood that were already behind him – to help his wife.

"Give it time my love," he suggested. "Jason does not yet know you."

"He told me that I was not his mother," Pasiphae admitted. "That I was simply the woman who gave birth to him." She was unsure what had made her tell Minos this. Especially as it still hurt to realise that her son saw her that way. "The awful thing is that I understand why he feels that way."

Minos sucked in a sharp breath.

"He did not say it to be cruel," Pasiphae continued. "He told me that where he comes from a mother is someone who loves and looks after their child and that he did not think I truly liked him let alone loved him. He also admitted that he does not know how to be anyone's son."

"He has not had a mother before," Minos murmured, recalling what Jason's older friend had told them of his background.

"I overheard him speaking to his friends when he did not know I was there," Pasiphae said quietly. "He was talking of his childhood and telling them about a woman who he lived with for a time who was supposed to have been raising him. This woman was needlessly cruel to him. Is it any wonder that he cannot view me as his mother? That he looks on me with suspicion?"

"With such a history it is only natural that the boy will be wary," Minos answered gravely. "It is early days yet and there may be difficulties on both sides. But I sincerely believe that with time you will achieve the relationship you desire with your son. After all I have never known you to back down from a challenge Pasiphae." A faint smile graced his stern features at the last comment.

"How could Aeson have done this?" Pasiphae burst out. "To take the boy is one thing, but to then abandon him? Merely to spite me? For I cannot believe that he had any other reason. Yet I would never have believed it. Whatever else he was Aeson was always so noble; so honourable. He always seemed to love Jason so very much. To walk away from the boy… to throw him to the wolves in that way… was not the act of a loving parent. I do not think I can ever forgive him for this."

"Who can know what the man was thinking," Minos sighed. "He had lost his throne; had lost everything he held dear. Perhaps he could not bear to lose Jason as well. Abandoning the boy as he later did does seem cruel but perhaps he had no choice in the matter. It is unlikely that we will ever know now given that the Oracle told Jason that his father was dead. We must believe that Aeson is no longer in the land of the living."

Pasiphae took a mouthful of food to give herself some time to think and plan her next course of action. It would be easy to allow Minos to continue to believe that Aeson was dead, but what would happen if he discovered at a later date that the man was alive and she had known and not told him? Jason would undoubtedly want to see his father at some point, if only to get the answers to the questions that were burning in his mind. There was a risk that he would mention it to Minos; that he would inadvertently betray his mother's knowledge of his father's existence to the King. No, it would be far better to inform her husband herself. That way she could use the information to her own advantage and could persuade Minos that Aeson posed no threat. That was something that must be avoided at all costs. If Minos thought that Aeson was a threat he might by extension view her son in the same light and act accordingly.

"Aeson is not dead," the Queen stated calmly.

"What?" Minos erupted. "But Jason's friend told us that the boy believed his father to be dead… that the Oracle had informed the lad of that fact. Do you mean to tell me he was lying?"

"No My Lord," Pasiphae answered quickly. "Jason did indeed believe that his father was dead and told his friends such. The Oracle was as obtuse as ever with her words to the boy. She told him that his father walked among the dead and left him to interpret the information as he would. I, however, have known for many years that my former husband was not dead… not yet anyway."

"And you did not tell me that he was still alive?" Minos asked incredulously, his voice rising with anger.

"You did not ask," Pasiphae answered gently. "You knew as well as I that he had escaped the Palace after you took the throne. He was a broken man. As you said he had lost everything. The civil war had disrupted trade to such an extent that our trading partners were only too glad to see it end; to have a return to stability. There was no-one who would ally themselves with him; no-one who would help him restart the war. The only allies he had had were in Atlantis itself and they were either dead, scattered to the four winds or had sworn new allegiance to you. I believed Aeson would be torn apart with grief over the loss of his city _and_ his son. He disappeared so completely that it only seemed to confirm that he had crawled into a hole somewhere to die. It was many years before I heard news of him and by then he was no longer a threat. I was informed as to his whereabouts and current situation. As it seemed he could do no harm to anyone I chose to leave him alone; to forget that he existed."

"Aeson will _always_ remain a threat as long as he is alive," Minos stated darkly.

"How can he threaten us when he cannot even enter the city? When none would support him in his quest for the throne? When people would turn away from him in fear and disgust?"

"How do you know he will not enter the city?" Minos countered.

"I did not say that he _would not_ enter the city. I said that he _cannot_. However much he might desire to return to Atlantis Aeson cannot come within the walls," Pasiphae said sharply. "He is a leper."

"A leper?" Minos asked, his face registering his shock. "You are sure of this?"

"Yes," Pasiphae answered. "I have seen him once. It is many years now since I discovered that my former husband was living in a leper colony. I had half convinced myself that he might have died by now so to see him again so unexpectedly was something of a shock. It was he who first hinted at the fact that my son might still be alive. Afterwards my mind could not leave the subject alone. I had to know the truth." She paused, thinking of her next words carefully. "Aeson is no longer a threat My Lord. There are few left who would even recognise the former king in his current form and none who would aid a leper in making a claim on the throne. He has no wish to regain the throne anyway I am sure of it. It has been more than twenty years after all and he has not resurfaced in all that time. Let Aeson rot in his cave with the other lepers. He can no longer harm us. He has faded from the hearts and memories of the people. Let him remain where he belongs – in the distant past."

"And if Jason wishes to see him?"

"I have reason to believe that he and Jason have already met," the Queen said, "and he chose not to identify himself; did not acknowledge Jason as his son. The time may come when Jason does indeed want answers from his father but at present he is still reeling from everything that has happened and still too hurt by what his father has done."

"Jason met him," Ariadne murmured almost to herself.

Pasiphae had almost forgotten the girl was present until she spoke. She looked at her stepdaughter with a frown, annoyed by the interruption. Ariadne seemed lost in thought. Then she looked directly at her stepmother, her dark eyes widening with understanding.

"Tychon," she breathed. "The leader of the lepers that we met in the mountains of Galena."

Minos turned to look at his daughter in surprise.

"After I was rescued from the brazen bull," Ariadne explained. "We escaped into the forest. The Oracle had told Jason to head to the old silver mines of Pangeon in the mountains of Galena. She said that we should be safe there… that our pursuers might not think to look for us among the dead. She was referring to the living dead… to lepers." The Princess paused, remembering little details that had eluded her before. "There was one leper there… Tychon… he was their leader. He was wary at first but then he came forwards and looked at us properly. He stared at Jason's necklace and thinking back it was as though he recognised it… was startled by it. I didn't see it at the time – didn't think of it – but it was only after he knew Jason's name that he agreed to help us." She looked at Pasiphae. "That was his father wasn't it? That was Aeson."

"I believe so," Pasiphae answered. "Jason referred to a leper he had met as Tychon." She turned back to Minos. "I do not believe he will wish to visit his father in the near future. He is too angry; too hurt."

"Poor Jason," Ariadne murmured softly, her voice sad. "It must feel like his father has rejected him all over again." She looked at her own father with appealing eyes. "What will you do to him?"

"Who?" Minos enquired. "Jason? I will do nothing to harm him. I have already given my word. I would hope that with time he would choose to become a member of this family. The boy has many good qualities that should be fostered… but he has much to learn and the choice to follow this path must be his alone. I have asked that he remain at the Palace until the situation with Anaxandros is resolved but after that he will be free to go. I wish to give him the time to make his decision about where his future lies. I have an offer which I wish to make to Jason that I believe will be to the benefit of all of us and may ease his passage into this family but it would be premature of me to speak of it yet. It is an offer I think I must discuss with Jason before anyone else."

Ariadne hesitated.

"You said earlier that Pasiphae will be teaching him all that he needs to know to encounter King Anaxandros," she said, "and that it will begin once this meal has ended."

"Yes," Pasiphae said sharply, wondering where the girl was going with this.

"Might I be permitted to visit Jason later?" Ariadne asked. She looked at her father again. "There would be no impropriety I give you my word. I would ensure that we are properly chaperoned at all times. It is merely that I thought that even with his friends here Jason must be so lost at the moment – especially in this Palace when all he is used to is an ordinary house… and I thought a friendly face might help. If he is to be a member of our family then we must welcome him as such."

"You are very kind," Minos murmured with a loving look at his daughter, "and provided you _are_ properly chaperoned at all times… and that you have no objections my love," he said turning to look at his wife, "I can see no reason why you cannot visit the boy to welcome him as your brother. As you say if Jason is to become a member of this family then we must treat him as such. However," he added, his face growing stern and his eyes narrowing, "if there is ever any hint of impropriety between the two of you I will not hesitate to act and to remove you from one another. You are the heir to the throne – a Goddess on Earth – and your reputation must not be damaged; must remain unsullied. Jason is no more than a young man who is visiting this household. He is not your suitor. He is not my heir. That is the way it must remain for the foreseeable future. Until the boy is ready to openly acknowledge his place in the world and until he has proved to be worthy of both your hand and any honours that I choose to bestow he will not have my leave to pay court to you. Do I make myself clear?"

"Perfectly Father," Ariadne answered, casting her eyes demurely at her plate.

Before she lowered her head, however, Pasiphae caught a little glint in the girl's eye. Ariadne it seemed was playing her own game, the Queen mused. The girl was carefully playing the part of the dutiful daughter and perfect princess while manipulating her father into a position where he would give her all she desired. Pasiphae suppressed a smile. Minos had no idea of just how much his daughter had matured over the last few years. She was clearly no longer the innocent little girl she had once been. She might yet prove to be a useful ally. With one last internal smile the Queen returned to her meal. Soon enough it would be time to return to her son and instruct him in proper behaviour – and hopefully build a few bridges while she was there.

* * *

Hercules watched both his companions from his seat by the fire with a worried frown. Pythagoras had made it back from his visit to their home in remarkably quick time with the breaking storm hard on his heels. The wind was howling and rattling the storm shutters now, although the shutters fitted the windows tightly enough that not even a hint of a draught snuck through into the room. He had brought with him an overstuffed satchel which he had filled with a change of clothes for himself and Hercules (and the big man couldn't help but notice that the lad had packed their best tunics), his mathematical equipment, several scrolls, a set of knucklebones and his own Tilia board. Hercules thought he might also have spotted a small jar of honey and a carefully wrapped packet of herbs and spices lurking in the bottom of the bag. He shook his head in wry amusement. Here they were in the Palace – the one place in Atlantis whose kitchens were guaranteed to have every herb and spice known in the city – and Pythagoras had brought his own supply "just in case". The lad had darted back into the room just ahead of the trays containing the midday meal that had been provided for them, with the bag bouncing on his hip and Jason's crutches tucked under his arm, more than a little out of breath from his run through the streets. Hercules frowned deeply. It was a sign that Pythagoras was not yet back to full fitness he felt. While the mathematician was nowhere near as fit as Jason he didn't usually get quite as out of breath as he had or look quite as pale. Going out on a cold day with a storm threatening hadn't been the best idea but there really hadn't been any way around it. Hercules _could_ have gone in his place but there was no way he had been willing to leave the two lads on their own in the Palace. In his eyes it would have been tantamount to leaving a pair of lambs in the middle of a pack of wolves.

As Pythagoras had blown in through the door, Jason had looked up with some surprise. Hercules' frown deepened. Although a servant had come to fetch him at Jason's request to let him know that the Queen had gone and he was free to return to his friend's side once more, the lad had barely said two words to him since. He had drifted off into daydreams again, losing himself inside his own head despite his older friend's attempts to draw him into conversation. It had been clear from his reaction when Pythagoras had returned that Jason had had no real idea of how much time had passed and had been surprised to see his friend return. That worried Hercules. The last time Jason had detached himself from reality the results had not been good.

For now though the young man seemed more or less back with them in reality, so Hercules had concentrated his efforts on getting a distinctly windswept and shockingly breathless Pythagoras out of his cloak, divested of his bundles and sitting in a chair near the fire with a nice warm drink, while trying to keep him from talking until he had regained his breath. It was not as easy a task as it should have been. Pythagoras might not have been as outwardly stubborn as their dark haired friend but when he felt he had something important to say getting him to keep quiet could be a challenge. Just as Hercules had managed to get the protesting mathematician ("I am fine Hercules… really I am" – uttered oh so breathlessly and interspersed with sharp coughs) settled into a chair and had fended off Jason's worried attempts to wriggle down the bed to make sure for himself that Pythagoras was alright the mathematician's tunic had given a startling wriggle and emitted an annoyed squeak. Isosceles, the burly wrestler noted, was really getting a little big to be carried inside one of the boys' tunics – even if she was still a fairly small kitten. She had just settled herself onto the bed alongside Jason when food had arrived, brought by several curious servants clearly burning with the desire to know why a young man that they recognised as a peasant from his previous encounters with the royal family was being treated as an honoured guest.

The food had been superb, Hercules had noted with pleasure. Each dish had been prepared to perfection. This was the standard of food served to members of the royal household every day and Hercules almost had to pinch himself to believe that he was partaking of it. He sighed thoughtfully. For all his fears (and he _was_ still worried about their intentions in the long run) both the King and Queen seemed to be going out of their way to welcome Jason into their home. The petty side of him wanted to believe that it was just because they needed his friend for their dealings with the Amphigeneian King but the reasonable side knew that they had no need to go as far as they had. Every effort appeared to have been made to provide for his friend's comfort, from these chambers with the adjoining guest chamber for the use of his friends (and hadn't _that_ been a surprise? Hercules would never have believed that Minos would ask him and Pythagoras to stay at the Palace just to make Jason more comfortable) to the excellent food that the Queen had clearly instructed the kitchens to provide (enough for three too… Hercules would have expected her to only provide for her son given her unspoken but obvious animosity to his companions) to the simple but expensive clothes in the trunk at the end of the bed that clearly spoke of a mother's desire to provide her son with things that would please him. The big man sighed. The more he thought about it the more it seemed unlikely that Jason would be returning home with them once this siege and his part in it was over – even if the King had said he would be free to go. It was obvious from the preparations that had been made that the Queen was keen to have her son by her side; that she would want Jason to come to the Palace to live. Life as they knew it had ended this morning when Pythagoras had explained the secret of Jason's parentage to their friend. In spite of his protestations at Jason's arrival all those months earlier, Hercules found that he was infinitely saddened at the fact.

What would happen in the days to come? Hercules looked sadly at Pythagoras, currently perching on the side of his friend's bed with the Tilia board set up between him and Jason, and Isosceles occasionally interrupting the game by batting the playing pieces with her delicate paws. The mathematician had been so quiet and serious before Jason had been introduced to their home. His entire world had revolved around his studies and his triangles. Getting Pythagoras to leave the house from one day to the next had been something of a challenge. Then a dark haired fugitive had stumbled accidentally into their lives and their home and had shaken Pythagoras' safe little world to its core, awakening an adventurous side in the young genius that Hercules hadn't even known existed. What would happen if – when – Jason was forced to leave them? Because Hercules was under no illusions that sooner or later the lad _would_ be forced to leave. Would Pythagoras retreat into his little world of academia again? Over the last few months Hercules had seen the playful side of his young friend coming to the fore increasingly often. Would he be able to encourage Pythagoras to give in to the playful side the way that Jason did without even trying? Who would he sit with out on the roof on warm summer evenings exchanging confidences or sharing the secrets of his day? Without his co-conspirator who would he exchange teasing banter with at Hercules' expense? The playful teasing had become a fact of life between all three of them. With one of them missing it just wouldn't be the same. Hercules would try his best of course but somehow he felt that despite his long-standing affection for the mathematician it would never – could never – be the same.

And what about Jason himself? The lad was far more sensitive than most people would give him credit for. He was also distinctly lacking in the common sense department. Hercules was honest enough to admit to himself that _he_ was no great shakes in that respect – particularly if the situation involved someone he cared about – and that at least half of their misadventures could be put down to _his_ choices, but usually Pythagoras could be counted upon to be the voice of reason. Who would there be to try to talk Jason out of his more mad ideas, or at least to follow him into them and provide backup and support? Who would make sure the lad ate regularly and didn't run himself into the ground trying to help other people? Who would be there to patch him up when he was injured? Or bolster his somewhat shaky self-confidence? Or laugh at his jokes? Or pull him into a hug when he was upset or having a bad day? Even if the King and Queen meant well (and to Hercules' mind that remained to be seen) they didn't _know_ Jason the way his friends did; they were too far removed from the ordinary people to even comprehend what went through the lad's head. Ariadne would try her best, the burly wrestler was sure, but even she didn't see Jason in the same way that he and Pythagoras did.

Hercules shook his head ruefully. It would help if he believed that Jason would look after himself – would see to his own needs – but the young man had proved over and over again that the instant someone asked for help any thought of his own well-being went out of the window. If you added to that his somewhat capricious appetite and random bouts of insomnia, in Hercules' mind it was just asking for trouble to let the lad loose with no-one to make sure he was alright. How Jason had managed to survive before he arrived on his friends' doorstep was a question that was beyond Hercules. Logically he knew that the boy was an adult and from what he had said had clearly been both independent and alone for a long time but damn it all this was his friend; his boy. Hercules hated to see him hurt and confused just as he would hate it if it were Pythagoras, and there was no doubt in his mind that that was the way Jason was feeling right now. He was more sombre than usual and obviously more on edge, and hadn't really touched the food that had been provided no matter how much his friends had tried to coax him into eating. In actual fact Hercules hadn't even seen Jason take so much as a mouthful – he'd simply pushed the food round his plate miserably.

Pythagoras looked over at Hercules with a worried frown. It was Jason's move in their game but he seemed to have momentarily forgotten they were playing; had drifted into deep thought again. Even Isosceles patting the game counters out of place didn't seem to pull him back into reality. Cautiously the young genius reached out and touched his friend's arm. Jason blinked and looked down at Pythagoras' hand for a second before dragging his eyes back up to his younger friend.

"Sorry," he muttered. "I got a bit distracted."

"What troubles you my friend?" Pythagoras asked earnestly.

Jason looked down at the sheets for a long moment. Just as his friends began to think he wasn't going to answer he looked back up, his features twisted into a bitter frown. Hercules scowled. Such a cynical, world-weary expression didn't belong on his young friend's face.

"He's alive," the young brunette answered flatly.

"Who?" Pythagoras asked with some confusion.

"My…" Jason closed his eyes and swallowed convulsively. "Aeson," he finally managed to say past the lump that suddenly seemed to have appeared in his throat.

Hercules drew in a sharp breath.

"How do you know?" he demanded.

" _She_ told me," Jason responded.

"And you believe her?" Hercules asked incredulously. "Pasiphae isn't exactly known for her openness and honesty."

"She had no reason to lie," Jason answered simply. "I asked how she had found out that I was her son. She could have made some story up but instead she told me that my… that _Aeson_ had told her."

Pythagoras winced not failing to notice the way that Jason was resolutely refusing to refer to his father by anything other than his first name. This was not good, he decided.

"It seems that we met him when we were rescuing Ariadne from the brazen bull," Jason continued. "Only he isn't going by the name Aeson now… he's calling himself Tychon. He met Pasiphae in the woods after we left him in the caves and told her that I was their son."

"The leper?" Pythagoras squeaked. He took one look at his friend's distraught eyes and moderated his tone into something firmer and more reassuring – he hoped. "This is good though, isn't it? Everything you've told me about your father… you wanted to find him didn't you?"

Jason barked a bitter laugh and looked up again. Pythagoras was staring at him with confusion and concern. Hercules on the other hand managed to look both sad and knowing. Jason nearly sighed. Hercules at least understood.

"He knew who I was and didn't say anything," he said softly, his voice barely audible. "He recognised my necklace and he recognised my name and never said a word… Greeted me as if I were a stranger. He clearly had no interest in letting me know who he was… in letting me know who he was to me… I obviously wasn't that important."

"You don't know that Jason," Pythagoras murmured reasonably. "Maybe he had reasons for not telling you. Maybe he couldn't bear you to see him as a leper."

"He had no problem telling Pasiphae who he was," Jason bit back. "Even after he'd met her… when you went off to gather herbs in the woods and he was alone with me… he could have told me then." He sighed. "I just have to face the fact that my… that _Aeson_ doesn't really want anything to do with me."

Hercules' scowl deepened. This day just kept getting better and better. How could _anyone_ have treated Jason this way much less his father? Perhaps the man did indeed have his reasons but for the life of him Hercules couldn't fathom what they might be. He glanced at Jason and noticed the tense set of the young man's shoulders, the anger and anguish warring in his eyes. There wasn't much time until Pasiphae returned to begin her 'instruction' and undoubtedly he and Pythagoras would be kicked out of the room at that point so he would have to make every second count now. He came around the bed quickly and sat himself down next to Jason on the opposite side to Pythagoras, pulling his young friend into a one-armed embrace. Jason stiffened, resisting the hug for a minute or two, clearly not wanting to be comforted right now. Hercules held on though, knowing that his friend required the comfort even if he didn't realise it. After a minute Jason began to relax almost unconsciously, virtually melting into the embrace that he needed so badly.

"When all this is over… when the Amphigeneians have gone… do you want to go and see him?" the big man rumbled gently. "Maybe get a few answers? We'll go with you if that's what you want to do."

Jason sighed tiredly.

"No," he answered. "I think he's pretty much the last person I want to see at the moment. Maybe there will come a time when I want answers from him but right now I think I might just be more likely to hit him than talk to him."

Hercules nodded understandingly.

"I thought it might be that way," he said. "But whenever you're ready we'll be there to help."

Jason gave him a fragile smile.

"All my life I dreamed of seeing my father again… of finding out that my mother wasn't really dead… of having parents," he murmured. "It's just that now it's happened I really wish it hadn't. I wanted a family but I don't really think I want it to include either of _them_."

"Give them a chance Jason," Pythagoras said softly. "You might find that things are better than you think they will be."

"Maybe," Jason acknowledged, "but I don't think I can do it just yet… I'm still a bit too angry at Aeson to want to see him… and I just can't bring myself to trust _her_."

"Whatever happens you've still got us though, right?" Hercules growled. "You're not going to get rid of either one of us all that easily."

A sudden sharp rapping on the door surprised them all. Before Jason could respond to tell the person to enter the door had opened and Pasiphae swanned in. She swept the room with a cool look, her eyes softening noticeably as they glanced over her son. Hercules braced himself to be ordered to leave.

Pasiphae had not failed to sense the tension in the room as she entered. Once again she felt a brief surge of jealousy as she realised that the two peasants that her son called friends were more welcome to him than she was. Then she looked again. The older one had an arm around Jason's shoulders, drawing him in for a hug. Her son was upset, she realised, and his friend was providing comfort. She looked again at their body language; at the way Jason had relaxed against the big man; at the way the other two had drawn towards him slightly as she had entered, ready to protect him if necessary. Perhaps for the first time she saw the three of them as a unit; saw his friends as more than just peasants who would use her son at the first available opportunity to obtain what they wanted; saw the loyalty between them. She sighed silently. These were not suitable people for Jason to be associated with but she supposed it could be worse – at least they were not bandits or Persians. The skinny one was clever enough she supposed and the other one might be a drunken oaf but at least he seemed to genuinely care for her son. Perhaps if she truly wished to begin to build bridges with Jason it would be best to at least tolerate his companions to some extent. Sooner or later she genuinely believed that these friendships would fall by the wayside as Jason became less and less part of their world and more and more part of hers. It was inevitable really. For now though she needed to accept that they were at least a temporary feature of her son's life.

With a smile that was both maternal and gentle she stepped forwards.

"Did you enjoy your meal?" she asked softly.

Jason shrugged. Pasiphae allowed herself a faint frown. The boy really needed to be broken of that habit as soon as possible.

"I wasn't very hungry," he muttered not meeting her eyes.

Pasiphae sighed silently again. It would take time, she reminded herself; she mustn't expect miracles.

"Perhaps you would care to inform the servants if there is something you would prefer," she said. "You are not to go hungry in this house. When a meal is served you will be expected to eat."

Jason pulled away from Hercules and straightened slightly.

"I thought you were here to instruct me in how to behave around King Anaxandros not to discuss my dietary habits," he said sharply.

"Indeed," Pasiphae snapped back, "and it seems that my first task will be to teach you some manners. Your tone is inappropriate for addressing a Queen… especially one who happens to be your mother. I would expect you to speak with some respect."

Jason scowled at the bedclothes, flushing slightly. He wasn't going to apologise. Since his arrival in Atlantis Pasiphae had done nothing to earn his respect... but then again he had been brought up to be polite and what he had said had almost bordered on rude. Perhaps he _should_ apologise. He shifted in the bed as he thought about it and winced slightly as his knee flared again.

Pasiphae frowned.

"You are in pain?" she asked.

Jason shook his head.

"No," he answered somewhat unconvincingly.

He looked up to find three pairs of eyes looking at him sceptically. The Queen had raised her eyebrows and folded her arms. She looked more than a little fearsome in that pose.

"No," Jason said again. "It's not pain exactly," he hurried on, trying to clarify what he meant. "It's more… _discomfort_. My knee's not throbbing the way it was earlier… it's more stiff than anything and I can't seem to get completely comfortable."

Before the Queen could say a word Pythagoras had swept in. Reaching down into the overstuffed leather satchel he had brought from home he pulled out a bottle and then slipped off the edge of the bed to grab a cup from the table by the fire. Carefully measuring out some of the contents of the bottle he turned back to his dark haired friend.

"Take this," he instructed, thrusting the cup at Jason. "I fetched the tonic that the doctor left for you the other day. It should help with any lingering discomfort. I will try to obtain some cloths. Alternating warm and cold compresses should help to relieve any swelling and reduce any stiffness you are feeling. With rest your leg should feel much better by tomorrow but I would prefer to prevent as much discomfort as possible now."

Jason, Pasiphae noticed, rolled his eyes expressively but still took the cup with a little smile and submitted to his friend's ministrations. She cleared her throat meaningfully, reminding the room of her presence.

"Although time is running short I do not intend this afternoon's instruction to be long or arduous," she said. "We shall begin properly tomorrow."

"Why?" Jason asked directly. "Why not just get on with it?"

"Because I feel that it has been a difficult enough day already," Pasiphae answered, keeping her tone soft and maternal. "It has been… emotional for both of us. You must feel worn down by it all and I believe that you would benefit from some time to adjust."

She watched her son's eyes narrow as he tried to hide the truth of what she was saying.

"And if you are not tired, I am," she continued. "Besides there are other people waiting to see you before this day is over and it would be as well to allow time for that I feel."

"Other people?" Jason asked suspiciously. He felt Hercules slip a hand onto his shoulder and squeeze lightly in a gesture that was both reassuring in its strength and comforting in its intimacy. At the same time he couldn't help the little spark of annoyance that he felt. He was an adult and had been for several years so why did everyone around him seem to think of him as a fragile child that needed comforting?

"One of the royal physicians will visit you to ensure that your injuries are not worse than we have been led to believe," Pasiphae began.

"I've already been seen by a doctor," Jason interrupted sharply, "and Pythagoras usually looks after me anyway."

The Queen turned to the blonde mathematician, her expression forbidding.

"You are a healer." It was voiced as a statement rather than a question.

"A practitioner of medicine… of sorts, Your Majesty," Pythagoras responded quietly and deferentially. He found himself rather nonplussed at being addressed directly by Atlantis' fearsome Queen.

"You are not without _some_ skill then," Pasiphae answered sharply, "and no doubt my son would prefer the ministrations of one whom he is used to. However," she added throwing up a hand with a swift gesture to cut off the argument that seemed to be about to spring from her son's lips, "Minos was most insistent that you should see one of the Palace physicians so that he can reassure himself as to your health and well-being. Do not make the misstep of defying the King… I do not think either one of us would be satisfied with the result." She glared at Jason.

Jason swallowed hard and bit back the retort that sprang unbidden to his lips. He really didn't want to start this afternoon off with an argument; didn't want to provide any more proof to Pasiphae that he was the petulant child she seemed to believe him to be. He nodded curtly.

"Afterwards I believe that Princess Ariadne has obtained permission to visit you," Pasiphae went on, her tone and her face softening visibly as she took in the flicker of surprised pleasure that danced across her son's dark eyes. "She was most _insistent_ upon it when she spoke to her father. You will of course be chaperoned at all times… although I will be relying upon the good nature and propriety of your friends on this occasion."

Jason smiled tentatively.

"I'm really going to be allowed to see Ariadne?" he asked softly, his eyes glazing over happily at the prospect.

"Yes," Pasiphae answered. "Although I am relying on your sense of honour in this matter. Ariadne is your stepsister and she will be visiting you as such. If you are to be a member of this family then it would hardly be appropriate for you to be barred from seeing her. The King has asked that it be impressed upon you that you are _not_ being given permission to court Ariadne, however. It may be that in time… once you have proved suitable… permission may be granted but for now you are no more than brother and sister. Any hint of impropriety between the two of you… any open displays of unseemly affection… and Minos will not hesitate to remove you from each other. As you are currently confined to these chambers by your injury special permission has been granted for Ariadne to visit you here on this occasion but be in no doubt that you are _not_ to be found in each other's bedchambers at any other time." She looked appraisingly at her son. "Now are you ready to begin our lessons?"

Jason nodded, although Pasiphae couldn't help but notice the longing look he threw at his two friends as the stood up and began to leave the chamber. Clearly the two men had already decided that they would not be allowed to remain. Pasiphae sighed. This really went against her better judgement but she _did_ want Jason to be as relaxed and happy as possible for her tuition.

"Wait," she instructed, with a glare at Jason's friends. "If you can keep yourselves quiet and do not interrupt then you may remain in this chamber. If you so much as breathe out of turn, however, I will have you removed."

Hercules and Pythagoras exchanged a shocked look. Pasiphae nearly smiled. She had long since learned that doing the unexpected was an advantage in many political situations; it kept her enemies off balance. She took in the grateful look that Jason threw in her direction when he thought she was not looking and allowed her face to soften into a smile. For the sake of her son she would tolerate the presence of these two peasants, at least for the moment. Pulling a chair near to the bed once more she seated herself and waited until the other two men had taken their own seats near the fire, the skinny one reaching almost automatically for a scroll to read and the fat one for cup of wine. She turned back to Jason with a soft maternal smile.

"Very well," she said. "Let us begin."


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Thank you all for the lovely comments. I'm sorry that this chapter is a couple of days late but I've had one or two problems with it... I hope it doesn't disappoint too much.
> 
> Let me know what you think...

Jason flopped back against the pillows with a sigh. That could have gone a lot better he reflected pensively. Pasiphae's attempts to teach him the manners and bearing he would need to deal with Anaxandros had begun reasonably enough. She had started with the basics: how to address a visiting monarch as a social equal; the importance of making an impression and never appearing subservient; the art of concealing one's true feelings and maintaining a believable façade. Jason had nearly interrupted her on that one and told her that he needed no instruction there; that he'd spent most of his life concealing things from the world; had long since perfected the art of hiding behind an easy-going smile that he plastered in place to keep people from seeing the truth – from seeing _him_. Somehow he didn't think that would go down too well though so he refrained from speaking.

True to her word Pasiphae had tried not to make the session too heavy and involved. She had seemed kind; gentle even. The velvet face of the fearsome queen. She had chided her son gently when he had engaged in those habits that she saw as being inappropriate to a prince: shrugging, biting his lip now and then, or dropping his head to look at the floor when he was uncertain or uncomfortable. It was all very well for her, Jason had thought irritably, but she didn't seem to appreciate just how nervous this was making him. He'd never done very well when too much attention was focussed upon him; had never enjoyed being the centre of attention in the way that many of his peers had; had always preferred to slip into the background whenever possible. Yet now he was being told that he had to stand up and allow himself to be noticed; to claim attention for himself. All in all he was growing increasingly uncomfortable.

The Queen had moved on to a brief explanation of the layout of the Palace. Jason was most definitely _not_ going to tell her that he knew some of it already. If she learned that it was him who had tried to kill her that time a few months ago and that he had then spent the night in Ariadne's chambers, Jason felt the conversation would end badly. Of course it would be even worse if Minos were to learn the truth, he had reflected. Somehow he didn't think the King would take too kindly to a young man spending the night with his daughter and imperilling her virtue – even if said young man _was_ his stepson.

As his attention had wandered he had felt a sharp tap on his arm bringing him back to reality. Jason had blushed. He'd always been a bit of a dreamer; could clearly remember the comments from his English teacher on his school report back when he was fourteen: "Jason is a nice boy who could excel if he could be persuaded to come down from out of the clouds and re-join the rest of us on planet Earth". It wasn't that he _couldn't_ concentrate on any normal day – and he _was_ well aware of how important the knowledge that Pasiphae was trying to impart might be – but his emotions were still all over the place from everything he had learned so far today and he still desperately needed to think things over.

He had apologised for his lack of focus and surprisingly Pasiphae had let it pass without comment. Perhaps, he reflected now, she had understood that he had not been trying to be rude; that he simply needed to get everything sorted out in his head. Then she had told him that she believed a brief history lesson might be in order. Nothing too arduous because time was pressing on and she did not want to begin the serious lessons until the morning; wanted to allow time for him to receive his other visitors and get some proper rest. This last statement had been delivered with a raised eyebrow and a stern look. It was then that things had begun to go wrong. The Queen had been surprisingly benevolent towards Isosceles, who had spent the entirety of Jason's lesson curled up against his leg and purring faintly. The kitten had been no trouble and Pasiphae seemed content to allow her to remain as long as things stayed that way. She had been less benevolent, however, towards Hercules who had grown bored and begun to toss his dice in his hand. He had been complying with the Queen's edict to remain quiet and not interrupt but apparently had still managed to fall foul of Pasiphae as she kept catching sight of his repetitive dice tossing out of the corner of her eye. Finally the moment came when he missed his catch and the dice fell to the floor with a clatter. Hercules had immediately dropped to his knees to find them and Jason had resisted the urge to face-palm and swear loudly.

Pasiphae had almost instantly reacted and in a strident voice had informed both Hercules and the blameless Pythagoras that as they could not seem to follow the simplest of instructions their presence was no longer required. Jason understood – really he did – and actually for once he found himself in full agreement with the Queen. Would it really have hurt Hercules to stay quiet and still for just a little while longer? From what he had gathered the lesson was almost over anyway so it wouldn't have taken that much effort. Now the burly wrestler seemed to have blown any chance that Jason had of persuading Pasiphae to allow his friends to stay when the more serious business began tomorrow – and he really wasn't all that sure that he wanted to do any of this without them. Pasiphae had already shown herself to be more reasonable than he had the right to expect her to be by allowing them to stay thus far and Hercules' dice tossing antics had been both distracting and annoying. So yes he fully understood why the Queen was ordering the pair to leave.

Unfortunately because he was tired, irritable and emotionally drained, and because the headache that had faded under Pythagoras' ministrations had begun to reassert itself with a vengeance, Jason had perhaps not reacted to his friends' dismissal with the tact and diplomacy that he should. Put bluntly he had lost his fragile hold on his temper and had snapped at Pasiphae with genuine anger. Because the Queen's own temperament would not brook any opposition or argument, she had quite naturally responded in kind and the afternoon had dissolved into an argument that was perhaps delivered at a volume more normally associated with Hercules than Jason. Finally, irritated beyond measure but realising that to continue an argument would be damaging to any potential relationship between them, Pasiphae had issued one final pithy comment on the nature of her son's upbringing in general and manners in particular and had left to calm down.

It had never really been in Jason's nature to sulk. On occasions when his mood was less than desirable he would usually take himself off for a long walk, using the fresh air and exercise to clear his head and give him back some sense of perspective so that he could return home to his friends in a much more pleasant mood than when he had left. Now though he was confined to the Palace – hell he was confined to bed until at least lunchtime tomorrow – with no real way of blowing off steam and a storm brewing inside himself. It was bad enough to discover that far from being the orphan he had believed himself to be when he had woken up this morning he actually had a full family that he didn't really know, without any of the rest of it. Minos and Pasiphae had both _tried_ to be kind enough he supposed but the fact remained that all of a sudden he had a mother and stepfather who were little more than strangers and that said stepfather was a king who had threatened to have him executed once – had condemned both Jason and his friends to a seemingly impossible contest fully expecting them to die in the process – and that his mother had used witchcraft against him to try to ensure that outcome. How was he really supposed to react? What was he supposed to feel towards them?

Then there was Aeson. Right now Jason couldn't even bear to think of the man as his father; couldn't bear to think of the mockery (intentional or not) that the man had made of his life. It was that betrayal that hurt most of all, he thought. If he had known what he knew now back when he had started all this – back when he had dreamed of finding out what had happened to his Dad – he would never have come looking. All his life he'd idolised his father; had believed that the man must have left for good reason; had dreamed of one day meeting him again even if he had known that there was a good chance the man was probably dead. So to find out that Aeson had clearly left of his own free will and accord and had apparently never once looked back or regretted what he had done hurt deeply. Even if Aeson _did_ have regrets the bare fact of the matter was that he had stood opposite his son – had sat across a campfire from Jason – and had not bothered to identify himself; had let Jason believe that he was a stranger – benevolent but nothing special. The more the thoughts whirled around in the young man's brain the more painful they became. It seemed obvious now by his actions that Aeson hadn't felt that Jason was important enough to tell him who he was; that although he had been friendly enough he didn't really care. Jason could have kicked himself. All this time he'd been stupid enough to believe that his father would care. Really you would have thought that after all the different placements he'd been through as a child he'd have known better, he silently berated himself.

Still he'd found somewhere that he belonged now; had found people that cared no matter what. Yet just as he'd found it, it seemed destined to be taken away from him once again. Whatever happened from here on in he couldn't see Pasiphae being happy with him continuing to live in the city with his friends – she had already made her feelings about Pythagoras and Hercules blatantly obvious. What would happen if he decided that he wanted no part of his new family however? Would he have to leave Atlantis? Leave the home he had come to love forever? And if he did what would happen to his friends? Much as he knew his friends would come with him in a heartbeat, would it be fair of him to ask that of them? To ask them to leave their home and their lives? He may have lived his own life like a gypsy, never staying in one place for too long, but that had been his choice. Did he have the right to condemn either of his friends to the life of a rootless vagabond? And that was imagining that he would have some choice in the matter. Right at this moment in time he felt that all control over his own life was being taken away; all independence stripped from his hands; that all sense of identity would be removed. Somehow it didn't seem fair and it had been all he could do not to call out for his friends; to demand comfort like a needy child.

It felt like there was a heavy weight sitting in his chest – as though there was a lump of something stuck in his throat that he didn't seem to be able to swallow past – and he bit down hard on the inside of his cheek as he tried to stop the burning sensation growing behind his eyes as hot tears threatened to escape; biting until he could taste the iron tang of blood in his mouth. His stomach was in knots and the headache just kept building and he really hadn't meant to upset Pasiphae; hadn't meant to say half of the things he had or to lose his temper with her. He knew as well as anyone just how dangerous the Queen could be when roused. She had clearly been trying to make him comfortable too and in spite of the voice in his head that told him not to trust her under any circumstances he found himself feeling guilty for his display of temper.

It was at this unfortunate moment that the royal physician assigned to check on him had decided to arrive. He was a kindly old man with a perpetually worried expression who headed up the team of physicians employed to minister to members of the court – to treat their illnesses whether real or fanciful. He had presided over royal births, illnesses and deaths for some thirty years now. Had stitched together Prince Therus' first battle wounds, had patiently nursed King Cretheus through his final illness and had seen Queen Pasiphae through her solitary pregnancy and labour. He had been informed of course of the identity of the young man he was visiting today, although the King had ensured that he understood that the information was to remain a secret. The old man was burning with curiosity though. This was a child who he had watched grow in his mother's belly; had sat up through the night looking after when he had developed a dangerous fever at a year old while his parents had hovered anxiously, united for a time by their shared worry; had watched take his first stumbling steps from a window of the wing of the Palace that housed the medical staff – watching as the boy toddled towards his mother with that bright smile that had been ever present and had never failed to lighten the mood of the Palace. It seemed impossible to think that that tiny boy would be a grown man now and part of the old doctor desperately wanted to see him for himself; wanted to see what the lad looked like and to reassure himself that this really was the same child – that he really had found his way home after so many years.

He had stepped into the room diffidently and introduced himself as Mnesus, chief physician to King Minos. He had searched the boy's face with his eyes and realised with a start that he recognised him. This was the boy who had rid them of the Minotaur and had to all intents and purposes beaten the Lord Heptarian in the arena – although he had declined to press home his victory. Mnesus had watched the Pankration from the stands along with most of the citizenry and had failed to recognise the boy as the child he had brought into the world. Now though, observing him keenly, he had wondered just how he had managed to miss the signs. The dark curls – darker than either of his parents – came from the maternal grandmother, the shape of face from the father and the eyes, of course, from his mother. There were other signs too. Something in the determined set of the jaw that was reminiscent of the paternal grandfather and a hint in his expression that reminded Mnesus of the lad's maternal aunt (the one who _could_ still be named. Too many had learned to their cost that raising the subject of Circe with her sister was not a good idea).

He had stepped forward and told the lad that he had been sent to undertake a full examination; that he had been led to believe that the young Prince had been injured several days prior and that the King wished to ensure that these injuries were not serious; that he was healing as Minos had been led to believe. He frowned in a worried manner at the way the boy's face had darkened at the mention of his title seeing for a brief moment the formidable Queen in the youthful face before him. Clearly he had said something wrong although he could not comprehend what that might be even when he mentally reviewed his words.

Jason had honestly intended to be polite to the doctor when he arrived, but here was someone else rubbing his face in knowledge that was still too new – the emotions associated with it too raw – for comfort. Still cross from his argument with his mother and just wanting some time to himself he had been uncooperative at best – refusing to answer the good doctor's questions and flatly denying the man's patient requests to be allowed to examine him. Eventually Mnesus had left, frustrated and worried by this monosyllabic and obstinate young man. He had returned a few minutes later travelling in the wake of the Queen in full sail.

Pasiphae had not been in the mood to negotiate or take prisoners. She had given her son a complete and thorough dressing down, leaving him with no illusions that any lack of cooperation or opposition on his part would _not_ be tolerated. She had informed him that he _would_ allow the good doctor to examine him and that he _would_ be expected to follow any and all instructions that Mnesus had for him to the letter and with good grace or there _would_ be consequences. Such consequences, it had been implied, might range from the removal of his friends or his cat to the removal of parts of his anatomy depending upon the infraction. Jason had been almost sure she wasn't serious about the last part.

Feeling guilty about how he had treated the doctor anyway, Jason had submitted to the man's examination with Pasiphae standing over him with her arms folded and her eyes hard. She was remarkably scary in that pose Jason had to admit – particularly as he was reclining on the bed and she was looming over him. He hadn't however been able to stop himself from muttering 'told you so' under his breath when it turned out that Mnesus concurred with both Cinyras and Pythagoras and left no additional instructions. Pasiphae had shot him an irritated look as the doctor had cast a worried glance from mother to son and back again. That of course had made Jason feel even more guilty. The old man had done him no harm after all and hadn't really deserved to be the recipient of his bad temper. Before Mnesus could leave he had caught hold of the man's arm and apologised earnestly, trying to explain that the doctor had caught him at a bad time. Mnesus had looked at him surprisingly shrewdly and produced a small flask from inside the bag he had carried, thrusting it at Jason with the instructions to take a dose the next time a headache bothered him. Jason had been too surprised to comment – usually he was better at hiding how he was feeling; was all too good at convincing most people that everything was fine. Pythagoras was the exception to the rule but that was really only because they had lived in the same house for long enough now that they knew each other incredibly well.

Mnesus had smiled at the young man's stunned expression and said that he would be back in the morning. Pasiphae, however, had not been mollified in any way. With one final frosty glance at her son she had swept from the room telling Jason icily that she would be back later.

That had been a few minutes ago and the young man had flopped back against the pillows trying to gather his thoughts. Should he apologise to his mother? He _had_ lost his temper with her after all when really all she had been trying to do was help him. Perhaps she had gone about it the wrong way and certainly forcing his friends to leave had not been her best idea, but she hadn't deserved some of the things he had said. He had been rude to the doctor too, although he had the feeling that the old man wouldn't bear a grudge – particularly as he had already apologised. He sighed. Apologising to Pasiphae might feel strange but under the circumstances it was probably the best thing to do.

What should he do now though? He could, he supposed, ring the bell that the Queen even in her anger had considerately left within his reach to summon a servant and ask them to fetch his friends – however much it went against every instinct to ask anyone else to wait on him. Somehow he felt that he wouldn't be the best company at the moment though; was still a little too close to the frayed edge of his temper. The other two would only worry if they saw him like this. Without meaning to he leant back against the pillow and closed his eyes, deliberately trying to relax the tension in his shoulders – knowing that it wouldn't be helping the thumping headache that seemed to have taken up semi-permanent residence behind his eyes. For a while he just laid there, eyes closed against the light, trying to relax himself and breathing deeply, one hand massaging his temples. He really hoped that this was just a headache caused by tension and not the start of a migraine because that would just about put the icing on what had been a truly terrible day.

Gradually, though he became aware that the room had darkened. Surely it wasn't that late in the day? Although part of him couldn't help hoping that this day _was_ nearly over just so that everyone would leave him alone for a bit. The soft sound of sandals against the tiled floor alerted him to someone else's presence. Jason cracked open his eyes to see who the intruder might be, letting his hand fall back to his side as he did.

Pythagoras was puttering near the fire, dropping a cloth into a pot of hot water and removing it again a few seconds later, wringing it out and folding it to form a pad. Where Hercules was Jason didn't know – the burly wrestler certainly wasn't in the room. The lamps in the room had been put out and now the only light came from the still cheerfully crackling fireplace. With a frown to himself the young mathematician made his way over to the bed and sat down, resting a gentle hand against his friend's shoulder, his blue eyes brimming with affection and concern.

Jason sighed.

"I got in an argument with her," he said moodily.

"I know," Pythagoras admitted. "I think that anyone in this wing of the Palace could probably hear."

Jason groaned quietly and put his hands up over his face.

"I didn't mean to," he confessed from behind his hands. "I just lost my temper."

"It has been a difficult day," Pythagoras agreed, "and it does not help that you still have a headache."

Jason stared at him.

"Am I that obvious?" he demanded. "The doctor that she brought left something in that bottle for the next time a headache bothered me. I didn't think I got them all that often or that they were that noticeable."

"It is simply because I know you that I know the signs to look out for," Pythagoras murmured softly, "and since the doctor had been examining you I would imagine that he spotted the same signs." He unstoppered the bottle and sniffed it delicately, before dipping the tip of one long finger into the mixture it contained and touching it to his tongue. "Feverfew," he said approvingly, "and lemon balm with just a hint of ginger." He measured some out into a cup that he handed to his friend.

Jason swallowed the contents of the cup although he could not help pulling a face at the flavour.

"That's disgusting," he muttered.

"Yes," Pythagoras agreed with a bright smile, "but it will help to balance you. Now close your eyes," he instructed laying the hot cloth across his friend's forehead and picking up Jason's right hand, carefully beginning to massage the palm and fingers with his own slender hands. It was something that had helped him in the past so he didn't think it would hurt to try it with Jason. If nothing else it might make his dark haired friend begin to relax a little, which, Pythagoras noted, was probably the main problem.

Jason grunted but did as he was told. After a few minutes Pythagoras was gratified to see the tension beginning to seep out of his friend, his shoulders losing some of that taught rigidity that they had held since the conversation where the mathematician had revealed what he suspected of the brunette lad's heritage.

"Where's Hercules?" Jason murmured quietly, as he began to relax more and more. The combination of the tonic and Pythagoras' gentle ministrations were rapidly taking effect and he found the pounding behind his eyes was receding to much more bearable levels.

"I sent him for some fresh air," Pythagoras answered softly. "He was becoming unbearable in an enclosed space. When he heard you shouting at one another it was all I could do to stop him from storming in here and giving the Queen a piece of his mind."

Jason winced. He could just imagine how well that would have gone down.

"He'd have probably ended up getting himself banished or condemned to death," he said, "and that seems to be my forte rather than his. Could you imagine him going toe to toe with Pasiphae though? I don't think even the Gods could foresee the outcome of that one."

Pythagoras huffed out an amused breath.

"Well he has always wanted to be a hero," he answered with some humour. "It is only because he cares though," he added more seriously.

"Not that he worries of course," Jason retorted with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

Both boys laughed lightly, knowing how untrue that statement was no matter how much Hercules might try to protest to the contrary. It was a running joke between the two of them.

"You're feeling better now?" Pythagoras asked his friend.

"Getting there," Jason answered with a soft smile. "My headache's not completely gone but it is going."

"Good," the young genius responded taking the cloth he had warmed up earlier away again. "So what did the doctor actually say?"

Jason rolled his eyes.

"The same thing as Cinyras… and you for that matter. Running around last night has put more strain on my knee. I need to rest and let it heal… nothing I haven't heard before."

Pythagoras raised an eyebrow.

"Hearing it before does not make it any the less true," he said primly, "and you did promise to follow Cinyras' orders this morning."

"I know," Jason answered, "and trust me I mean to. I need to be back on my feet as quickly as I can this time and I'm guessing that doing what I'm told is the way to go."

"It is," Pythagoras retorted. "Did he say anything else?"

"Not really," Jason said. "Just that I needed to stay off my feet tonight and he'd be back just before the midday meal tomorrow to determine whether I would be allowed up on crutches or if I needed to stay here for a bit longer. My money's on him letting me up though… Minos wants help with Anaxandros too much for them to let me linger in bed for too long."

"Perhaps," Pythagoras answered firmly, "but whatever he decides you _will_ be complying with it."

Jason looked at the mathematician in mild surprise, too startled at the insistent tone of Pythagoras' voice to be truly irritated at yet another person telling him what to do. It wasn't often that the gentle blonde dug his heels in on a subject but over the preceding months he had infrequently demonstrated that when the occasion demanded (usually when the health of one of his friends was at stake) he was even more stubborn than Jason.

"Of course," Jason answered meekly.

Pythagoras appeared mollified.

"Good," he answered pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

"Are you alright?" Jason asked.

"A little tired," Pythagoras responded. "As I said before it has been a difficult day."

Jason looked at him appraisingly and scooted over on the bed.

"Why don't you have a lie down while Hercules is out then?" he offered. "The bed's big enough and I won't tell Hercules if you won't."

Pythagoras hesitated. Much as he hated to admit it he probably could do with a short nap. His strength was still not what it should be and he knew better than anyone the benefits of rest to a still recuperating body. Still he wasn't sure how the Queen would react if she were to come back here and find him reclining on her son's bed.

"Jason I am not sure that your mother would be happy with that idea," he murmured.

"Why not?" Jason asked. "You're just going to be sleeping after all."

"I think Pasiphae would view it as inappropriate given my social status," Pythagoras answered. He realised his mistake as soon as he saw Jason's face darkening again.

"You and I aren't any different," Jason stated hotly. "If _she's_ got a problem with my friends then she can speak to me about it… and if she doesn't like who I am _or_ who my friends are then I'll just leave."

"I doubt it is that simple," Pythagoras said, although his eyes drifted to the bed almost of their own accord. It _did_ look terribly comfortable and he _was_ tired.

Jason scooted over a little more and patted the free side of the bed invitingly, sensing that Pythagoras' resolve was wavering.

"Just a few minutes," he cajoled. "What harm could it do? Hercules will be back soon and you know he'll only nag if he realises how tired you are. This will save him from worrying."

Deep down Pythagoras knew that there were probably some very good reasons why he shouldn't take a nap right now but he was too tired to think of them. Everything that had happened so far today had worn him out and almost without knowing what he was doing he found himself almost crawling up onto the side of the bed, pausing only to kick off his sandals. By the Gods this bed was comfortable. The young genius didn't think he'd felt anything so soft in his life. He stretched out and relaxed, almost melting into the bed with a soft sigh of pleasure and closing his eyes automatically.

Jason smiled gently as Pythagoras' breathing evened out into the soft rhythms of sleep. Clearly he had needed this more than he had been willing to admit. The young genius was still far from being at full strength after his recent illness and Jason realised with a guilty little start that today would have been hard on both his friends. That was something he hadn't even considered with all that had happened today. Pythagoras had had the unpleasant job of telling him the truth about his parentage and how had he rewarded him? By lashing out angrily and blaming his friends for not telling him sooner. Then through all the revelations and discussions that had happened since all either of them had done was to patiently support him. Jason bit his lip feeling increasingly guilty. He had been so wrapped up himself – so caught up on his own emotional rollercoaster ride – that he hadn't even stopped to think how much of a toll this day must be taking upon Pythagoras - who was really still only convalescing – or upon Hercules who must have been worrying so much about both his friends. He tried very hard to be as unselfish as he could most of the time but right now he was left with the uncomfortable feeling that he had failed. Somehow he would have to make it up to them.

The door to the room began to open slowly and softly and Hercules slipped inside. His eyes travelled from Jason to the currently sleeping Pythagoras and back again and he came forwards, a question in his blue eyes.

"Is he alright?" he rumbled quietly, nodding towards Pythagoras.

"Yeah," Jason ventured, keeping his voice low to avoid waking his friend. "He was tired so I persuaded him to shut his eyes for a bit." He glanced down at the covers in embarrassment. "It's been a bad day for all of us," he added awkwardly, blushing, "and I haven't been making it any easier have I? I've been so wrapped up in myself that I didn't even stop to think how this must all be affecting him… or you for that matter."

"Now you just stop right there," Hercules growled. "Whatever rot it is that you're thinking about yourself, stop it now! You've not been selfish or inconsiderate or anything else for that matter. Everything that's happened today has come as a horrible shock and we understand that. The Gods know I can't even imagine what you're feeling right now but all either of us want is for you to know that we're here no matter what."

Jason nodded, still feeling guilty in spite of Hercules' words.

"Thanks," he muttered.

"My offer still stands though," Hercules continued. "Just say the word and we'll get out of here… I hear Rhodes is nice at this time of year… or Athens… Pythagoras has always wanted to see Athens."

Jason couldn't help the huff of laughter that escaped him at Hercules' words. He didn't think he'd ever know what he'd done to deserve the steadfast loyalty of his friends but he was glad of it all the same.

"I don't think the Amphigeneians would be very happy if we left the party before it really got started," he said. "Besides this is our city… our home… and I don't really think I like the idea of leaving our friends to defend their homes while we go off on holiday somewhere."

Hercules frowned.

"What's 'holiday'?" he asked.

"Never mind," Jason answered. "It doesn't matter." He paused. "I don't really think I want to leave. The King and Queen are trying to be kind," he added gesturing around the room, "and I think that maybe I need to try to hear what they're saying."

Hercules' frown deepened. He couldn't say that he agreed with Jason but if this was what his friend wanted then he'd try to play along with it. All the same it wouldn't hurt to make one or two preparations – just so that they could be ready to cut and run at short notice if things went horribly wrong (which they had a tendency to do when the three of them were involved he had to admit).

"So where did you go?" Jason's softly spoken question startled the burly wrestler from his thoughts.

"What?" he asked with some confusion.

"Pythagoras said he chased you out," Jason clarified. "He said that you were about to burst in here and shout at Pasiphae so he made you go to get some fresh air."

Hercules glowered.

"I wasn't about to let her upset you," he said forcefully.

Jason sighed.

"Actually I think it was more me upsetting her," he confessed. "I sort of lost my temper. She didn't even provoke me really… it was more that everything just hit me at once… and then she threw you both out."

"That was completely unfair," Hercules sniffed. "Totally unprovoked. We'd stayed quiet and hadn't interrupted once but she still threw us out."

"Yeah," Jason answered giving Hercules a long look, "and I didn't really blame her… your dice throwing was annoying me let alone her." He sighed again and shook his head. "I just snapped… and she snapped right back. I ended up saying things that I'm not even sure I really meant."

"Like what?"

"I'd rather not repeat it," Jason said guiltily. "It was bad enough that I said it the first time… put it this way I think I owe Pasiphae an apology. Plus I was really rude to that doctor that Minos sent… and he seemed like a nice old man. He certainly didn't deserve to be subjected to my ratty mood. It was just that I'm tired and I was irritable and that headache I had earlier came back and kept on getting worse and I just wanted everyone to leave me alone."

He looked up to see Hercules looking at him sympathetically. The lump rose unbidden into his throat again and he tried to swallow it back down, fighting a losing battle against his own frazzled emotions once more. He could feel the prickle of tears behind his eyes and blinked them away rapidly. He wouldn't cry – he wouldn't. It would do no good at all; wouldn't change a situation that he felt was distinctly unfair and would only prove to Hercules' mind that he was still a little unstable – a child in need of protection. And he wasn't. He just needed some time and space to work through everything that had happened today – to decide how he really felt about it all.

Hercules reached out one meaty hand and patted his friend on the shoulder gently. Things would go a lot easier if he could just persuade Jason to let go, he decided. The lad needed to release all that pent up emotion; needed to stop trying to be strong and bottling everything up inside. Jason's habit of trying to struggle through every problem on his own was one that his friends had as yet been unable to break. The young man had yet to be convinced that they did not see it as weakness when he let go of his sometimes rigid self-control; that it was alright to show it when he was upset. In Hercules' opinion Jason was just too independent for his own good; had to be coaxed into letting go even with his friends. It wasn't that Hercules liked to see him upset – of course he didn't – but it would be far better for him to release things in a controlled manner now than to bottle everything up and explode catastrophically at a later date – as he had after Alektryon.

A gentle tapping at the door made the big man swear under his breath. He would never get Jason to open up if they had a visitor. The lad would retreat even further behind the mask he sometimes wore; would try to be strong and hide what he was feeling – partly for the sake of those around him and partly, Hercules felt, to protect himself. Even as the big man glanced at him he pushed himself up, straightening a little and running an unconscious hand through his wild curls, trying to project an image of calmness and control. He was damned good at it too, the burly wrestler had to admit; anyone who didn't know Jason quite as well as his two friends would be easily fooled. Even to Hercules' knowing eyes only a slight tightening around his eyes and a rigidity that didn't quite belong there in his shoulders alerted the big man to the fact that all was not quite well with his younger companion.

As Jason tried to pull himself together and Hercules silently glowered at the interruption, the door began to open. It was not the Queen who stepped through and into the room as Hercules had been expecting however but Princess Ariadne. The girl came inside the chamber almost uncertainly, her hands clasped before her and her face concerned.

Jason blinked. He had forgotten that Pasiphae had said Ariadne would be visiting after the doctor had gone. He swallowed hard and tried to shove his emotions even further down inside. The last thing he wanted was for the Princess to see him upset – she would only get upset herself on his behalf.

"My father has given me permission to see you," Ariadne began, "although he has stipulated that as we are in your bedchamber there must be a chaperone present at all times."

"I know," Jason answered with a little grin. "Pasiphae told me. I think your father thinks I'm planning on ravishing you or something."

Ariadne gave a wicked little grin of her own.

"I was able to persuade him, however, that I merely wished to welcome you to our family. To greet you as my brother." Her sharp eyes did not fail to notice the way that Jason tensed slightly as the mention of family and sighed silently. "Are you alright?" she asked.

"I'm fine," Jason ventured, cursing himself for the way his voice shook slightly.

Ariadne came right over to him and sat herself down on the chair that Pasiphae had conveniently left behind earlier.

"Jason I think you'd tell me you were fine if you were bleeding to death," she pointed out.

Jason looked down at his hands.

"Probably," he admitted.

Ariadne smiled affectionately. She glanced around the room thoughtfully. Despite the presence of Hercules and Pythagoras and, she noted with some amusement knowing her stepmother's feelings on pets, Isosceles who was stretched out between Jason and the sleeping Pythagoras and purring enthusiastically, the room felt barren in spite of its opulence; it didn't have the cosy, homely feeling of the house that Jason shared with his friends in the city. Hercules had retreated to a stool near the fire and was cleaning under his nails with the tip of a knife and casting dark looks in the Princess' direction every so often, much to Ariadne's confusion. Pythagoras, on the other hand, was still stretched out on the bed napping. Jason followed Ariadne's eyes to his mathematically inclined friend and smiled.

"He was tired," he explained. "It's been a long day and he's still not quite at full strength yet."

"Don't let Pasiphae see him there," Ariadne answered quietly. "I do not think she would take to kindly to him sleeping on your bed… she would probably get the wrong idea."

"I don't think she'll be back for a while," Jason admitted. "I annoyed her."

The Princess sighed softly.

"Try not to antagonise her too much," she advised.

"I didn't mean too," Jason divulged. "It was just… everything that's happened today… I mean…" He broke off, breathing hard and trying to regain some measure of control.

Ariadne's gentle, compassionate hand reaching out to grasp his own nearly undid him on the spot. He bit down hard on his lip and dropped his head forwards so that neither the Princess nor Hercules, still watching him with a concerned expression from his seat by the fire, could see his face.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do," he confessed despairingly, unable to keep the waver out of his voice. "How I'm supposed to feel. When I woke up this morning I knew where I belonged but now I…" he broke off and swallowed convulsively. "All my life I've never stayed in one place for too long… never put down roots… never settled. I gave up believing that one day I might have a real home a long time ago… but here I'd fooled myself into believing… I should have known better. I should have known it wouldn't last."

Jason dropped his head even further, tucking it into his chest, not wanting to see the expressions on either Hercules or Ariadne's faces; hating the fact that he felt – and sounded – so vulnerable. A slender but firm hand rubbing his back from his other side alerted Jason to the fact that Pythagoras had awoken and he bit his lip again, feeling incredibly guilty that he had inadvertently woken the young genius from his much needed rest.

"My father is not a bad man," Ariadne said softly. "I know he can be… difficult at times and he seems severe but he really does want to welcome you to our family." She almost winced as Jason tensed even further. "He told me earlier of what should have happened; of what was intended before you were taken away. My father spoke of his desire to raise you as a brother to Therus and to me; told me that you would have been raised with the same love that he showed to us. He tries very hard to be a good man, to be a good king and to be a good father. If you truly cannot be happy here with us I do not believe he will force you to stay against you will."

"But I won't be able to stay in Atlantis will I?" Jason asked softly. "Whatever happens that door is closing forever."

Ariadne hesitated. She knew what she could say to comfort Jason but in all conscience she did not believe that she could tell him less than the truth.

"I do not know," she answered truthfully. "My father has said that he wishes to give you time to make a decision about where your future lies – although he hopes that with time you will choose to become a member of this family. He has also said that he has an offer to make to you once the current siege is over but he would not tell me what that offer was… only that he felt it would not be right to speak of it with anyone else until he had spoken to you…" she hesitated again. "He is willing to try Jason. What happens now depends on whether you are willing to try too. I believe that you could find your place here. That you could be happy. But it has to be something that you want yourself."

"And if you do decide that you want to leave there are plenty of places we could go," Pythagoras added seriously. "I have always wanted to see Athens… to have the chance to study in such a great city… to see the wonders of the Temple of Athena." He looked at Jason and smiled. "But my imagination is running away with me again. Athens is but one place that we could travel to; where we could make a fresh start."

Jason tried to swallow past the lump in his throat.

"I couldn't ask you to do that," he protested, attempting to appear as calm as possible although he could not hide the cracking in his voice. "Atlantis is your home. I couldn't ask you to leave it. Your life is here."

"A city does not make a home Jason," Pythagoras said gently. "Nor does a house. It is the people inside it that make a house a home. The truth is that you and Hercules are the only real family I have. I love you… both of you… and for a rational man it leaves me utterly bewildered but there it is… I will come with you out of love… because you are the brother of my heart… and because I believe that you would do the same for me without even thinking about it," he paused. "It may not yet come to that though. You have not yet heard what the King has to offer. For now think of what is and not what may be to come."

Jason nodded, still with his head dropped. A firm, callused hand grasped his chin and tilted his face back up. At some point Hercules had crossed the room and crouched down beside Pythagoras. He was watching Jason now with concerned eyes, taking in the tension in his young friend, the unhappy set of the mouth and the downright guilty expression in the lad's dark eyes.

"I'm sorry," Jason muttered. "I'm being childish again. I don't mean to be such a problem."

"You aren't," Hercules growled. "You're not being childish, or difficult, or whatever rubbish you're thinking about yourself right now. We all understand how hard this is… how much you've got to come to terms with right now. Finding out about who your mother is… the news about your father… it's a lot to take in. And even without all this mess…" he gestured vaguely around himself, "putting your mother and the Palace and the King on one side… you've go to be hurting from what your father alone has done. You don't need to hide it from us. You don't need to keep trying to be strong. Showing your friends – your family – how you feel doesn't make you weak; it makes you human."

"You don't have to hide from me either," Ariadne murmured, still covering Jason's hand with her own. "I came here tonight because I knew you would be upset… that with everything going on you must feel lost and alone." She paused. "I know what it is to feel alone. There are many who would envy my position and I know full well how privileged my life has been; that there are many advantages to being the daughter of the King. Yet as a child I was lonely. My mother was dead and my father tried to take her place but he was all too often caught up with affairs of state; matters that only the King could determine. I would go for days on end without ever seeing him. Therus was so much older than I and did not want to be seen to spend too much time with his little sister and Heptarian… well let's just say that Heptarian was never my choice of companion. He was always cruel even as a child. Then there was Pasiphae. From the first Pasiphae and I struggled to be pleasant to one another. She carefully selected the people who I was to be friends with. Surrounded me with her own supporters. I was always aware that there were few people I could truly trust. Korinna was an exception. My father brought her in to be my companion and handmaiden when I was thirteen in spite of Pasiphae's objections. She was my only friend here and when she died I lost the only person in the Palace I could truly trust. The rest of the court proved that their allegiances were not with me when Pasiphae accused me of treason," Ariadne could not help the bitterness that had crept into her voice.

Jason turned his hand over and took hold of the Princess'.

"You can trust me Ariadne," he said earnestly.

"I know. You have never let me down."

"I couldn't," Jason answered.

"Because you'd do anything for me," Ariadne murmured. "Give your life for mine."

"Anything."

"Then I could ask for nothing more." Ariadne smiled softly. "What I was trying to say though is that I know that this place can be lonely and a little forbidding, but I will always be here. I know that this is not what you are used to and it cannot be the same as your life in the city but I believe that my father will at least try to compromise. I do not believe that he will make you give up your life completely… at least not for now. He would not be that cruel."

"Maybe," Jason answered. "I can adapt myself to most things anyway… I've had to over the years. It's just been a bit of a shock… and to find out that everyone apart from me knew and didn't tell me…"

He did not fail to spot the way that Ariadne tensed slightly.

"You knew as well then?" he asked quietly.

"Jason I…"

"Ariadne was with us when I worked it out," Pythagoras interjected quickly. "It was the night you ended up at Meriones' house. We were looking for you and went to the Temple. Ariadne was there."

Jason laughed bitterly.

"Of course," he said. "I just wish you'd all trusted me enough to tell me earlier. It might have been easier to handle if I hadn't had to come here too; if I didn't have the King and Queen thrown into the equation."

"Pythagoras wanted to tell you earlier," Hercules admitted, "but I didn't think you were ready. Then with the epidemic and him being ill and everything we ran out of time."

"I know," Jason sighed softly. "I'm not really angry with you guys… I mean yes I was a bit upset at first but I kind of see why you didn't say anything. It's just that it would have been easier to get used to everything if _they_ weren't involved." He paused. "I'm glad you're here though. There's no-one else I'd want by my side in the next few days… and I'm sorry if I've been grumpy with you. I'll be alright. I just need a bit of time to get used to everything."

"As long as you are alright," Ariadne said with a gentle smile. She looked around herself. "I must go," she added. "My father may have given me permission to be here but I do not want to tempt fate or his wrath by staying for too long. Besides I must go and prepare for the evening meal."

"Do you eat every meal with them?" Jason asked with genuine curiosity.

"Who?" Ariadne responded. "My father and Pasiphae? No… I eat many of my meals with them but there are occasions when I manage to escape… I usually visit the Temple to undertake my sacred duties when there is a meal I wish to avoid. There are also times when they are unable to give the time for us all to sit down to a meal together. On those occasions a meal is prepared and delivered to my chambers."

"Will I…" Jason started. "That is… I mean…"

"Will you be expected to join us at the table?" Ariadne answered. "Perhaps. My father was happy for you to eat in your chambers for now. He believed that there were more important things to think about than forcing you to the table. He also believed that you would be more comfortable here with your friends." She smiled at Hercules and Pythagoras. "There may come a time when he does expect you to join us for our meals… although I suspect it will only be those that are taken in the small dining room. Father is not ready to declare your existence to the world by making you join us for a meal with the entire court and I doubt you would appreciate that either. For now you are lucky though."

"How so?" Jason asked.

"Because tonight is a formal meal for the advisors of the King," Ariadne continued with a wicked little glint in her eyes. "They are a very boring group of old men… although you did not hear me say that. I must be the perfect Princess in front of them. I will go and be the dutiful daughter and pretend to enjoy myself in front of them. Trust me you are lucky to be spared the boredom."

The Princess stood and smiled, giving one final squeeze to Jason's hand and nodding to his two companions.

"I will hope to see you tomorrow," she said.

"Until then," Jason responded, relaxing into the first real smile his friends had seen since the morning, dimples flashing.

As he watched Ariadne leave the room, Jason's hair flopped once again perilously close to his eyes. He sighed in exasperation and flipped it back with one hand.

"Where did that bell go?" he muttered half to himself.

"Why?" Pythagoras asked quizzically.

"I want to ask one of the servants to get something," Jason said, blushing slightly. "I don't really like the idea but I don't know where to get the bits I want from."

"What are you after?" Pythagoras asked.

"A shallow tray full of earth and a pair of scissors… shears… whatever it is you call them here."

"Why in the name of the Gods would you want those bits?" Hercules rumbled incredulously.

"The tray is for Isosceles," Jason explained. "Pasiphae said she had to stay in this chamber and sooner or later she's going to need to use the latrine… and the scissors… well you did offer to help me get rid of some of this mop," he added running a hand through his wild curls and looking hopefully at Pythagoras.

"I did indeed my friend," Pythagoras smiled, "and then we will settle in for the evening. I have brought games that we can play and I'm sure that we can prevail upon Hercules to tell a tall tale or two."

"He doesn't normally need that much encouragement," Jason agreed with a sudden mischievous grin.

"Oi," Hercules protested. "I'll have you know that all my tales are completely true!" He took in the twin sceptical looks he was getting from the boys. " _Almost_ completely true," he amended.

Pythagoras and Jason exchanged a tolerantly amused look, rolling their eyes at one another.

Hercules looked appraisingly at the lads, judging their moods.

"Thinking of long hair did I ever tell you about Achradina the merchant's wife?"

"I actually don't think I have heard that one," Pythagoras murmured.

"Funny story actually," Hercules began. "Cilix the fruit merchant was the smelliest man I ever met."

"And this from the smelliest man in the whole of Atlantis," Pythagoras said.

Hercules completely ignored his friend's interruption.

"Well Cilix had this wife…"


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N This is probably going to be the shortest author's note I've written because I'm going to be late for work otherwise!
> 
> Thank you all for the lovely reviews. Don't forget to let me know what you think of this chapter.

It was late morning when Mnesus ambled down the corridor towards the young Prince's chambers. He had been up and working for many hours now, having risen before dawn to answer a summons from one of the ladies of the court. Lady Myrine was a rich widow who had held sway over the other noble ladies of the city for many years now, believing herself to be second only to Queen Pasiphae herself. She was also fond of imagining herself to have developed a serious illness when in fact she was in perfect health and often summoned the good doctor from his bed at some ungodly hour to pander to her latest whim. Her latest summons had come because she had fancied that she had a stone in her stomach, a growth that in her words was causing her unimaginable agony that no-one could ever hope to understand. Mnesus had examined her and determined that in actual fact she had developed a bellyache from eating too many under ripe plums. Still no doubt Lady Myrine would spend the day in bed, he reflected, receiving visitors from the other ladies of the court in much the manner of a queen and telling them all about how delicate she was. Mnesus snorted. Delicate indeed! He had seen carthorses that were more delicate than Lady Myrine.

The old doctor turned a corner into a large indoor courtyard. He paused for a moment to catch his breath, watching the flicker of lights, reflected from the myriad of torches and lanterns that lined the walls, playing across the surface of the water of a sunken pool. He was getting far too old to be dealing with the likes of Lady Myrine he decided. The rest of the morning had been taken up with seeing to the wounded in the Temple, victims of the last attack on the walls the night before last. Mnesus had not strictly been supposed to be nursing the wounded soldiers and there were other doctors with a less exalted position than the one he occupied who could have been doing the job, but the King had not exactly forbidden him from helping and he had felt it his duty to give aid where he could. He had found himself working alongside a disreputable looking man, clearly a drunkard, and for a moment he had considered calling the guards and getting him removed, believing that this could not be a doctor; could not be anyone with that sort of skill. He had watched however the quiet competence and compassion of the man's movements, the way he had sought to comfort as well as to heal, and had come to the conclusion that this other doctor might be a drunk but he was also clearly one of the finest physicians Mnesus had ever seen. He was far more skilled, Mnesus realised, than some of the other Palace physicians and obviously lacked the arrogance that many of their profession seemed to have that always set the old man's teeth on edge. All in all Mnesus found he enjoyed working with the man more than he had with anyone for many years. He wondered idly how he could go about bringing the doctor onto his staff; how he would even find his name.

Breath recovered the doctor set off again. This was to be his last visit of the morning (as long as Lady Myrine did not decide to disrupt his plans once more that was) and he was looking forward to sitting down to a good meal and a short rest. There had not been time for breakfast and the old man was beginning to feel the effects of a stressful and tiring morning. As he walked the doctor's mind wandered to the boy he was going to visit. He really was not sure what to make of the young Prince. The lad had been surly and uncooperative almost to the point of being rude and yet before Mnesus had left him had apologised for his attitude and conduct so earnestly that the old man had found it impossible to be cross. The King had told him that the Prince had had no idea of his identity and heritage until yesterday morning and had naturally been shocked. Perhaps that went some way to explaining his behaviour. Mnesus had been easily able to spot the signs of a severe headache and the Prince had seemed tired and overwrought. Would today be any better? The old man stopped at the door to the chamber and tapped gently.

"Come in." Mnesus could clearly hear the caution in the young voice that responded and pasted his most confident and friendly smile in place before entering.

The chamber that the old man stepped into was brightly lit. For once the day was fine and a strong winter sun streamed in through the window, bathing the room in bright sunlight. The young man that the doctor had come to see was once again resting easily on top of the covers of the bed, his legs stretched out in front of himself and crossed at the ankles – although his right knee was still raised on pillows. He put down a parchment that he had obviously been reading as Mnesus entered and smiled shyly, and the old doctor found himself returning that smile with a genuine one of his own. For the first time since meeting the Prince Mnesus saw a hint of the young child he had known. Yesterday he had sought and found indications of the lad's heritage in his face. Today he saw Jason's own personality coming through; saw a shadow of the bright smile he remembered lifting the spirits of everyone in the Palace when the young man before him now had been little more than a baby. He did, however, look pointedly at the crossed ankles, knowing that it would be better for blood flow if the legs remained straight.

Jason flushed slightly and uncrossed his bare feet.

"Pythagoras keeps telling me that I shouldn't be doing that," he said awkwardly. "At least not until my knee has healed."

"I do not know who your Pythagoras is but he is quite correct," Mnesus answered gently. "Crossing your legs will restrict the blood flow and slow healing. But I should have asked first how you were, Your Highness. It was remiss of me."

Jason's eyes went huge at the use of the title and the shy smile dropped away.

"Don't call me that," he said softly.

"I'm sorry My Lord?" Mnesus asked with some confusion.

"Your Highness," Jason answered, "and I'm not a lord either. My name's Jason. That's all. Just Jason."

The elderly doctor frowned.

"I do not think it would be appropriate for me to call you that My Lord," he began.

"Please," Jason all but begged.

Mnesus looked at the lad before him.

"I do not think that your mother would like it," he said softly. He couldn't fail to notice the mischievous gleam that danced across the young man's eyes.

"What the Queen doesn't know won't hurt her," Jason said.

Mnesus shook his head. Before he could comment the door opened and a pale and thin young man of about the same age as the young Prince came inside, reading from a parchment as he walked.

"Hercules was distracting me," he said without looking up. "So I have come in here to work Jason." He looked up and saw the doctor, freezing in place with his eyes growing wide. "Oh… erm… I am sorry… I did not know that there was anyone else here."

Jason looked at the doctor.

"This is my friend Pythagoras," he said softly. "Pythagoras this is the doctor… erm… Mnesus," he finished as he remembered the old man's name.

Mnesus started and looked at the young man in surprise. He had ministered to Lady Myrine for twenty of his thirty year career in the Palace and in all that time she had never managed to learn his name – and the same held true for most of the court – yet this boy had met him less than a day earlier and already knew his name. The young man was clearly cut from a different cloth to the rest of the court and the doctor found himself wondering just what their reactions to him would be; secretly hoping that he would be a breath of fresh air in the sometimes stuffy atmosphere; secretly fearing that the nobles would try to force him to conform to their ways.

He looked appraisingly at Jason again. He was clearly more relaxed than yesterday – less tense – and the sunnier side of his nature was rapidly reasserting itself, although faint smudges beneath his eyes told their own story – providing evidence to the elderly doctor's eyes of a troubled night. He looked different today though and for a moment Mnesus could not work out why. Then it came to him. The lad's thick curls, which yesterday had been all but drooping into his eyes, had been trimmed back to a more respectable length. They were still longer than was normal among the courtiers and in all probability were longer than the Queen would like but they _were_ within the realms of respectability now; were no longer in danger of interfering with the young man's vision. Mnesus found himself pleased that they had not been cut away altogether. With those wild dark curls and the bright, sunny smile the lad reminded the doctor of the old Queen – the boy's paternal grandmother – a woman of whom Mnesus had been inordinately fond. He smiled.

"You did not answer my question My… Jason," he said softly. The Queen would no doubt be apoplectic if she ever heard him refer to the boy that way but right now Mnesus found that he didn't really care.

"Thank you," Jason answered favouring the old man with a bright lop-sided smile. "I'm feeling a lot better."

"Good," Mnesus answered, his voice assuming a more professional manner. "I am still required to complete an examination though… if you will permit it."

Jason nodded.

"If it gets me out of this bed then be my guest," he said still smiling.

"Jason!" Pythagoras huffed in exasperation.

Jason rolled his eyes.

"Don't worry. I'll do what I'm told."

"That will be a first," Pythagoras answered primly.

Mnesus looked between the two of them with growing amusement. While he wasn't entirely sure who this other pale young man was it was clear that the two boys shared a close relationship. Still he wasn't used to having other people present when he reviewed his patients and he found himself hesitating.

Pythagoras turned to look at the old man with serious eyes, correctly surmising what was troubling the doctor.

"I will leave you to your examination," he murmured.

"No," Jason said. He turned to Mnesus. "It's alright if he stays isn't it? Pythagoras is a healer… he's the one who usually looks after me when I get hurt."

Mnesus noted in passing that the young man said _when_ and not _if_ he got hurt. Clearly this was not such an unusual occurrence. Normally he would not hesitate to insist that he needed to see his patient alone, however, no matter who their companion might be – but this was the Prince he reminded himself. No matter how informal the lad seemed or how much he might insist on his given name being used rather than his title he was still a prince of the blood – Poseidon's servant on earth – and must still be obeyed… as long as his wishes did not contradict those of the King or Queen of course.

"Very well," he murmured and came forwards to sit himself down on the side of the bed to gain better access. He would never normally consider doing such a thing with a member of the court – let alone a member of the royal family – but the Prince seemed to appreciate informality.

Behind the doctor Pythagoras moved into a position where he could see more clearly. Mnesus ignored him and moved to roll up Jason's trouser leg, pausing when he saw Isosceles nestled at the side of the young man's leg.

"And who is this?" He asked, reaching out to tickle the top of the small creature's head and eliciting a faint rumbling purr from her. Isosceles was always more than ready to accept adulation from anyone.

"Her name's Isosceles," Jason answered touching the kitten's back with affection. "She's mine… well ours," he gestured towards Pythagoras vaguely.

Mnesus drew his hand away from the little cat.

"I am afraid she is going to have to move if I am to examine you," he said. "It seems a shame though when she would appear to be so very comfortable."

Jason chuckled.

"Don't worry," he said. "She'll be back as soon as you're done. Isosceles likes to cuddle up to people. Pythagoras will distract her for a bit."

As he said it Pythagoras stepped forwards and collected the mildly protesting kitten with one slim hand, swinging her up into his arms where she immediately settled, nuzzling the side of his face affectionately. Mnesus smiled at them before turning back to his patient.

"This is better than I was expecting," he said, examining the young man's knee. "The swelling has gone down substantially and although the bruising looks and probably feels unpleasant it is good that it has come out. How did you injure it? I did not have the time to enquire yesterday."

Jason grimaced.

"Originally I fell down some steps," he admitted. "I twisted it when I fell. That was about a week ago… and it was getting better. I mean I had a few days in bed at the start because the doctor I saw didn't want me to be moving around too much. You know from yesterday that I had some cracked ribs and he didn't want to risk me reinjuring them at first… wanted to give them a chance to begin to heal… and actually I didn't really want to try to move too far anyway. I was a bit bruised and knocked about and pretty stiff and sore. Then I had a couple of days on crutches before he started letting me weight-bear again," he paused and looked a little guilty. "Only I sort of overdid it a bit the night before last. You see there's this little girl that we know who got taken by slavers and we all went looking for her… and I might have run after them a bit… and then there was a fight between them and us… and some of the city guards were helping… only one of the slavers got a pretty good kick in as he went down and caught the side of my knee. By the time we got to the Temple it was hurting pretty badly and Cinyras… that's the doctor that saw me when I fell down the stairs… said I'd strained it again."

"You have indeed," Mnesus answered. "No doubt your knee is still painful and I need to determine the level of that pain to determine how long it is likely to take you to recover from this set back."

"It's not too bad now," Jason said. "I mean it aches a little bit when I move and it's a bit stiff but nowhere near as bad as it was when I woke up yesterday morning. It was throbbing pretty much all day." He hesitated. "Listen I am sorry about yesterday. I'm not normally like that. It was just…" he trailed off uncomfortably, looking for the words to explain what he meant.

"Yesterday you were tired, upset and in pain," Mnesus answered for him. "You had had a shock and I do not think any of us would be at our best under those circumstances." He placed one hand firmly on the young man's ankle and the other on his knee. "I wish to assess the stability of the joint," he explained. "I was unable to do this yesterday as your knee was still too swollen."

Jason nodded.

"Very well," Mnesus continued, "slide your heel up the bed to bend the joint slightly… good… and straighten it… good. And again… and straighten." He removed his hands and looked seriously at Jason, noting the grimace that the young man was struggling to hide. "You are in pain from that?"

"It's not too bad," Jason clarified. "Just uncomfortable and a bit stiff really. It was a lot worse than this yesterday, but Pythagoras kept making me use hot and cold compresses on it. He said it would help with the swelling and the stiffness."

Mnesus nodded with satisfaction.

"The joint feels relatively stable," he said, "but the nerves _are_ overstretched. I do not see a reason to keep you in this bed but neither do I want you walking on that leg until the knee has had a little more chance to heal. I will arrange for some crutches until such time as I am satisfied that you may walk without doing any lasting damage."

"Actually I have a pair under the bed," Jason admitted. "My friend Hercules made them for me a few months ago and Pythagoras fetched them from home yesterday."

Mnesus peered at him with worried eyes.

"You have injured yourself in this way before?" he asked.

"No," Jason answered. "I broke some of the bones in my left foot some months ago."

Pythagoras snorted from his position near the window, where he had retreated with Isosceles and a piece of twine.

"You broke _most_ of the bones in your foot some months ago," he corrected.

Mnesus' worried look grew.

"How?" he asked with concern.

Jason sighed. He didn't like to be reminded of the incident with the merchant Dakos or the injuries he had sustained under Galanus' torture.

"It was crushed," he answered quietly. "I was taken captive and they didn't want me to escape… it was a case of mistaken identity."

Mnesus frowned deeply.

"Such an injury can have long lasting consequences," he remarked. "You will permit me to look?"

Jason nodded.

"It healed completely," he said as the doctor moved down to his feet, gently manipulating the left one – moving it back and forth and observing the range of movement. "For a couple of months afterwards it would ache when I was cold or tired but I expected that… and it's pretty much stopped now."

Mnesus looked up.

"Who tended to you on that occasion?" he asked.

"Pythagoras," Jason shrugged.

"You are indeed a skilled healer," the doctor told the young mathematician. "The only evidence of the injury is some faint scarring… and I would not even have noticed that if I had not been looking. The fact that you still have full range of movement is truly remarkable," he added turning back to Jason.

"I know," Jason answered. "I'm lucky. When I've been injured or ill my friends have taken good care of me." He smiled fondly at Pythagoras. Then he turned back towards Mnesus. "You said I could get up now?"

"I have one or two final questions and then I will leave you and you will be free to move around as you will," his elderly companion stated. "Although I would suggest that it would be a good idea for you to rest regularly and put your feet up when you do. You are likely to find that your knee will swell a little as you become tired. If that happens take yourself somewhere where you can rest and use compresses to alleviate the symptoms as you have already been doing. Now how have you been sleeping?"

Jason looked startled.

"Erm… not too bad," he ventured, aware that Pythagoras' eyes were boring into him searching for any hint of dishonesty or evasion. For once though he was telling the complete truth. Yes the last few nights had been a bit more disturbed but as a rule he was sleeping much better these days than he had in years. "I mean it took me a while to get to sleep last night… I was tired enough but my mind was just too busy to sleep. I woke up early this morning too… strange dreams. Not bad, just odd. Too much on my mind I suppose."

"Hmm," Mnesus said thoughtfully, eyes narrowing. "The headache went away easily enough?"

"Yeah," Jason nodded.

"And no more since?"

"No. How did you know I had it though? You said the tonic was for next time… what made you think there'd be a next time?"

The old doctor smiled gently.

"Your grandmother – the old Queen – used to suffer with headaches. Sometimes they were so bad that they made her sick. I tended to her for years, although really there was little I could do other than to try to alleviate her symptoms. Lying still in a dark and quiet room seemed to help her. You remind me of her in both looks and character. You have her dark curls and her smile. Queen Tyro could light up a room with a single glance. She was kind – kinder than many in the court – and I became fond of her. I learned to look for the signs that one of her headaches had begun. I saw those signs again last night in you."

"She had migraines," Jason murmured to himself. "It's what we used to call the sort of sick headache you were describing where I grew up," he clarified on seeing Mnesus' curious look.

"And you have suffered with this sort of illness yourself," the doctor stated with certainty.

"In the past, yeah," Jason agreed. "Not for more than a year now though. Not since before I came to Atlantis. I still get the occasional bad headache – like yesterday – when I'm tense, but nothing like the migraines I used to get."

"You will tell me if they start again though," the old man said firmly.

Jason shrugged.

"If you want," he said, "but over the years I got pretty good at dealing with them myself… I'm pretty self-sufficient to be honest."

"No doubt you are," Mnesus agreed, "but I would take it as a kindness if you were to comply. The Queen would not take kindly to my failure to see to your needs I fear."

Jason frowned.

"You can't be expected to be a mind reader," he objected. "If I don't tell you something that's my own fault."

"I doubt that the Queen would agree with you," the elderly doctor said gently. "It is my job to ensure the continued good health of the royal family and indeed the court at large. Whilst I would not be expected to foresee sudden illnesses it would be remiss of me not to know of and treat any long standing day to day issues."

"I don't want you getting into any trouble on my behalf," Jason said grasping the old man's hand. "Not when all you've done was tried to be kind."

Mnesus gave a faint smiled.

"You are more like Queen Tyro than I would have dreamed possible," he said thickly. "May the Gods bless you my boy."

The old doctor levered himself back to his feet and started to walk slowly back across the chamber. With one final glance at his Prince he turned to the door and slipped out through it, leaving the two young men inside the room to themselves.

* * *

The Palace corridors were remarkably deserted for once as Minos strode away from the Council Chamber seeking peace in the sanctuary of the family wing. This morning's meeting had been difficult to say the least. It had only been the King and a few of his most trusted advisors – those who could be relied upon to keep the secret of Jason's existence from the world at large and yet play their own parts in Minos' plans – yet it had not gone as smoothly as Minos would have wished. Even without the presence of the somewhat prejudiced Kephalon (who given his recent lapses in judgement could no longer be completely trusted) the lords present had been at best suspicious of the sudden reappearance of Queen Pasiphae's long-presumed deceased son and at worst had accused the lad of being an active part of an Amphigeneian plot. Even after they had been reassured that the Oracle had confirmed the boy's identity they had almost universally suggested that it was folly to keep him alive; had openly suggested that the King should dispose of the boy immediately for the security of the Kingdom and the Crown. Minos sighed. He was inordinately glad that he had not subjected Jason to meeting his advisors yet. It would have to come of course and soon, but for now the lords only knew of the existence of the boy and not his identity. In the end Minos had been forced to stamp his authority on the meeting (not something he particularly minded doing to be honest) and had informed the councillors firmly that Jason was not as far as anyone could tell a threat and that he had agreed to help Minos with the resolution of the siege. He had also informed them that at present the boy was uncertain whether or not he wanted to acknowledge his heritage and that it might very well be that he chose to go into exile rather than become the sort of problem the councillors feared.

He had also ensured that they all understood the need for complete secrecy. It would not do for the knowledge of Jason's existence to get out to the general populace until the King was ready for it – and until Jason himself was ready to make a decision regarding his own future. At the moment it was impossible to anticipate what that decision might be and despite Minos' own need for urgency it seemed distinctly unfair to try to push a boy who was only just beginning to process the information he had been given – and if yesterday afternoon was anything to go by he would need both time and patience. The King had heard reports of the argument between the boy and his mother from his own personal servant who had happened to be near the chambers at the time. He sighed. It appeared that Jason had inherited his mother's temper which did not bode well for the peace and harmony of the Palace. Pasiphae was undoubtedly a remarkable woman in many respects but her temper was legendary and patience did not come easy to her. Although she had not chosen to inform him of the quarrel she had had with her son, her husband could have guessed that someone had angered her from her black mood over the supper table last night. She had been polite to his advisors but her responses to their fawning had been more curt than usual and she clearly had had no wish to engage in extended conversation, excusing herself as soon as it was polite to do so and returning to her chambers siting tiredness. Minos had yet to see her today – his midday meal had been taken in the Council Chamber deep in discussion with the same advisors from last night – but he was suddenly glad that she had not attended the meeting; given her mood last night he could only imagine with a shudder what her response to the councillors suspicions and suggestions that Jason should be disposed of might have been.

Yes patience was most definitely not Pasiphae's strong suit and Minos had a distinct feeling that it was a skill she would have to learn rapidly under the present circumstances. He pondered the matter as he paced down the corridor. He had the benefit of distance that his wife lacked – understandable really given the way the child had been taken from her – and could see what she could not: that Jason was scrabbling to find a foothold, to come to terms with everything that was happening and was not lashing out through genuine anger but because he didn't know how else to react. It would help, he decided, if Pasiphae could see that the boy truly needed his friends right now. From the brief comments she had made it appeared that she would have preferred it if the King had not extended an invitation to the other two men to stay in the Palace. She could apparently see no benefit to their being here and believed that her son needed to cut his ties with them as quickly as possible. Minos frowned. The loyalty and love he had observed between the three men went beyond the bonds of simple friendship. It would be cruel in the extreme to separate his stepson from the two people he clearly trusted and cared for most in the world at a time when he was so off balance from all that was going on around him, and who, the King privately suspected, would follow the lad through the gates of Hades itself purely out of love. Minos was willing to acknowledge that he was many things but he hoped he was not _that_ cruel.

Still, the boy's open display of temper to his mother yesterday could not go unchecked. Minos might understand his behaviour and even be willing to a certain extent to make allowances for it but Jason needed to learn rapidly that as long as he was under this roof he needed to keep a civil tongue in his head and speak to his mother with the respect that any child owed its parents. The King would not tolerate rudeness or lack of basic respect. He frowned again. It was just one more problem to add to the ever growing list of dilemmas that he had had to deal with over the last few days. Wearily he ran one hand across his face, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to ponder all the possible outcomes of the current situation.

Rounding a corner into a central courtyard Minos paused, drawing back slightly in surprise. However had the lad managed to get from his chambers to the Courtyard of the Sun without getting hopelessly lost? And come to that should he even be out of his rooms? The last Minos had been informed Jason had been left with strict instructions to stay in bed until told otherwise. Still the Chief Physician to the royal household should have seen him at some point this morning so perhaps he _had_ been released without the King's knowledge. The King stepped back into the shadow of a pillar watching the young man and considering his next move.

Minos had to admit that of all the places in the Palace – all the hidden courtyards, private rooms and secluded gardens – the Courtyard of the Sun was his favourite. The place exuded an air of tranquillity that was a balm to his heart and soul whenever he was troubled. From its central sunken pool with a bench positioned on each side, to its beautifully tended plants and trees rising from large pots towards the roof, to the tall carved columns that marked the edge of the broad raised walkway that surrounded the pool, the walls painted with images of tall trees, giving way here and there to niches that contained small shrines or small statuary and vases, the Courtyard of the Sun was a magical, peaceful place. Minos came here whenever the need for serenity and solitude overcame him. He wondered briefly if the young man he was currently watching sometimes had need of peace and solitude too.

Jason sat with his back to Minos staring into the still water in front of him. His posture was not that of one who was defeated or angry or upset, the King noted, but merely one who was deep in thought. For a moment he considered leaving the boy alone to his thoughts, of allowing him these brief moments of respite before the world came crashing in on them again, but if they were to approach Anaxandros in the next couple of days – if they were to have any hope of success – he felt that he needed to know more about Jason, and now seemed to be the ideal opportunity for the two of them to have a quiet conversation without any outside interference. With a measured pace he began to step quietly towards the young man.

As he drew near he saw Jason stiffen slightly in acknowledgment of his presence, although the boy did not turn around.

"It's alright," the young man murmured softly. "I know I've got to come back. I'll be along in a minute."

Minos raised an eyebrow at the informality in the lad's tone. Clearly he had assumed that the person approaching him was someone other than the King. He drew level with the end of the bench and watched Jason turn slightly and start with surprise, his head ducking and face flushing faintly with embarrassment.

"I am sorry Your Majesty," he said in a barely audible voice. "I did not mean to give offence. I thought you were one of my friends." He kept his head down and his eyes lowered respectfully, only the harsh sound of his breathing giving away the fact that he was worried.

Minos' frown deepened as he realised that the boy was awaiting his displeasure; that he clearly believed his mistake at not realising the King's identity sooner would meet with retribution. Was this truly what the people thought of him? Did they fear him that much? The thought sat unpleasantly in his mind and he found himself sitting down beside his stepson with a sigh and casting a sidelong glance at the young man. Jason, he noticed with increasing displeasure, had not looked up; was still keeping his head down deferentially.

"Jason," he said softly, spotting the slight start from his young companion as he spoke, "you do not need to bow to me while we are in private. I do not expect members of my family to genuflect."

He turned fully and took in the uncertainty in the lad's eyes – so like his mother's but with something much softer in their expression. Minos sighed again. Perhaps a different approach was needed to put the young man at ease. Aware that his scrutiny would only discomfort Jason further, the King turned back to face the central pool, allowing the tranquillity of the place to seep into him.

"I have always been remarkably fond of the Courtyard of the Sun," he murmured. "There is a peacefulness to this place that allows me to forget my troubles for a brief time. It allows me a few moments of solitude that as a King I sometimes find hard to achieve." He shot a shrewd look at his companion. "I would hazard that I am not the only one who comes in search of solitude, however."

Jason looked down at his hands before raising his eyes to look at the still, calm water in front of him.

"I usually go for long walks on my own to clear my head," he offered without really thinking about who he was addressing. "My friends know that I need a bit of time to myself from time to time so they let me just wander. I can't really do that at the moment though," he added, gesturing to the crutches that rested alongside him, propped up on the edge of the bench and until then unnoticed by the King.

Minos raised an eyebrow as he spotted them and turned to look the boy full in the face.

"Should you even be out of bed?" he enquired seriously.

Jason chuckled lightly before flushing again and looking down at his hands.

"Yes Your Majesty," he said. "Mnesus – the doctor you sent – said that I could as long as I took things easily for the next few days and made sure to rest regularly. My leg's not that bad… it's just that I've stretched things a bit and I need to give it chance to heal." He rolled his eyes at the last statement and Minos found himself trying hard not to allow his mouth to twitch with a supressed chuckle.

"And so you thought that you would bring yourself to the very far side of the private chambers?" The King asked, hiding his amusement.

Jason had the grace to look embarrassed.

"No-one told me I couldn't have a look around," he protested before remembering who he was speaking to and tacking on a belated 'My Lord' at the end.

"Indeed they did not," Minos agreed, "although I would request that for the time being at least you confine your wanderings to the family chambers. I want no more misunderstandings like the one with Lord Kephalon yesterday… although I doubt anyone would take you for a thief dressed as you are now. Any questions as to your presence from members of the court were you to stray beyond the bounds of the family chambers might prove difficult to answer without revealing who you are."

"It wasn't my fault, My Lord," Jason objected. "I didn't mean to upset your advisor but he wouldn't believe what I was saying."

"Indeed," Minos answered. "His behaviour was inexcusable. Had you been a messenger or guest sent from one of our allies he could have caused a serious incident. Rest assured that I will be dealing with Lord Kephalon as soon as I have leisure to do so." He looked appraisingly at Jason. "I was impressed by your restraint," the King continued. "Many men would have lost their temper with less provocation. However I am led to believe that you were less restrained with your mother later in the day."

He looked significantly at Jason, noting the look of guilt that flashed across the hazel eyes and the growing unease in the young man's posture.

"Be of no doubt that I will not tolerate any lack of courtesy or respect towards your mother," Minos pressed on, his tone hardening. "You will speak to her with the respect that a son owes his mother at all times. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes My Lord," Jason muttered, looking at the floor.

Minos' hard gaze softened slightly.

"I know that it is too soon for you to truly think of her as your mother," he said, "and I know that the last day has been difficult… but your mother wishes more than anything for the chance to love you as a mother should… I will not see you hurt her in any way."

"I was going to apologise last night," Jason admitted, "but she never came back after the doctor left. Then this morning she sent word that she'd been detained and that she'd be back to start my lesson a couple of hours after the midday meal." He looked around himself almost shamefaced. "I needed a walk… I was getting a bit restless and getting on my friends nerves… so Pythagoras and I came here. He said he'd be back to fetch me in good time. I have a tendency to lose track of time when I'm daydreaming so it's usually safest to let Pythagoras keep track for me. I was going to apologise as soon as I saw her though, I give you my word. I was out of order yesterday."

"Very well," Minos answered. "Then we will say no more about it." He pinioned Jason with another hard stare. "But there will be no repetition, am I understood?"

"Yes My Lord," Jason muttered again, looking for all the world as though he wanted the ground to open and swallow him up.

Minos turned back to look at the still water, allowing a silence to open up cavernously between them. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Jason's tense, unhappy posture and inwardly cursed. What could he say to ease things with this strange boy? He was the King, used to having his every order obeyed and his every whim catered to, yet he could not order the young man to relax around his family. Aeson had done his work well, he reflected bitterly. A boy who should have grown up within their family was now only a stranger to them, uncomfortable in the presence of his own mother and unknown to all. How should he treat the boy? If it had been one of his own children the answer would have been easy. After a scolding Therus would have received a gentle pat on the shoulder – the reassurance that he needed that everything was now fine and he was forgiven – and Ariadne would have been wrapped securely in his embrace. Jason, however, was not his child; until yesterday had been a complete stranger; simply one of his subjects – and one that had on occasion defied him at that. The boy would surely not respond well to physical contact from him, nor would he feel comfortable giving it. He cleared his throat meaningfully, searching for something to say, and felt his stepson's hazel eyes on him.

"Tell me a little about yourself," Minos gently instructed. This seemed to be as good a way as any to restart the conversation.

Jason bit his lip but let it slip back from between his teeth as he caught the King's disapproving glance and remembered Pasiphae's instructions from yesterday. He also resisted the urge to hug himself, a peculiar little self-comforting gesture that had become a habit over the years but which he felt would be equally disapproved of in present company.

"There's not much to tell… Your Majesty," he muttered inwardly hating the scrutiny that he seemed to have been constantly under since yesterday morning.

"I am hardly likely to believe that," Minos retorted sharply. "It would pay us to know and understand one another a little I think before we deal with Anaxandros." He paused and looked sternly at Jason. "Tell me of your childhood," he demanded. "How and where were you raised?"

Jason looked more uncomfortable than ever.

"I don't really like talking about my past My Lord," he answered. "I've never really seen why other people want to know."

"Ah," said Minos, a sad smile touching his lips faintly, "an unhappy childhood then… I would guess that you were a lonely child."

Jason looked away, unwilling to confirm or deny the King's guesses, knowing that they were straying perilously close to subjects that the Oracle had forbidden him from talking about with anyone. True he had pushed the boundaries of that particular restriction when he had been talking with his friends but damn it all he was _safe_ talking to Pythagoras and Hercules and they _deserved_ to know a little about his past even if he did heavily edit it. Minos, however, was most definitely an unknown quantity and the Oracle had been most firm in her instructions that the King must never know where Jason had come from. Did that still apply he wondered. After all everyone around him seemed to know more about him than he did about himself – including the King.

"Perhaps it is too soon to expect you to discuss such personal matters," Minos continued softly. "Perhaps instead you could tell me a little of your more recent history. How long have you been in Atlantis? I presume you arrived some time before the lots were chosen for the Minotaur sacrifices last year."

"I arrived the day before the lots were chosen Your Majesty."

"That was not a good time to arrive in Atlantis," Minos murmured.

Jason flashed him a brief shy smile.

"So Pythagoras told me at the time," he said dryly.

Minos could not restrain his own brief smile in response.

"Did you know your friends for long before you arrived here?" he asked apparently idly. There was still a chance after all that one or the other of them knew more of Jason's past than the older one had already divulged; there was a chance that they had known him as a child. After all they seemed remarkably close as a trio and that spoke to Minos of long association.

"I only met them the day I arrived," Jason muttered. "There was this two-headed lizard thing in the agora and it attacked me and started chasing me… and I might have knocked over a few stalls trying to get away. Anyway I managed to beat it off but the guards thought I'd caused a disturbance or something so then _they_ started chasing me… I had to jump off a wall to get away from them and I ended up landing on the balcony of Hercules' house and Pythagoras took me in." He really wasn't sure why he was telling the King all this but it was almost as though once the floodgates had opened he couldn't stop. "Pythagoras is the kindest man I've ever met."

"I see," responded Minos, his mind reeling a little from the barrage of information. It seemed remarkable to him that the three men had developed such a close and loyal friendship over such a short period of time… but then, he reflected, being subjected to danger did tend to bond men closer together – you saw it with soldiers all the time – and the incident with the Minotaur would certainly have counted as a dangerous situation. "I think that we may all be grateful for your friend's kindness. However," he added firmly, "I am of the opinion that he must be discouraged from sheltering fugitives no matter what situation they find themselves to be in or how much of a misunderstanding it might seem to be."

Jason opened his mouth to object until he spotted the amused twinkle in Minos' eyes. The King, it appeared, was not quite so stern or unforgiving as he might appear to the general populous.

"I'll make sure to tell him that My Lord," Jason said with a mischievous little grin.

Minos snorted at the cheeky response. When was the last time anyone had dared to make a joke – however small – in his presence? He dreaded to think. Over the years he had grown to appear increasingly aloof and severe; a sad side-effect of his taking the throne all those years ago. Almost involuntarily he allowed himself to smile. The boy was full of life if nothing else and the Palace had been so grim of late. Once upon a time the corridors of the family wing had rung with youthful voices; with light and laughter. That had all ended the day that it had been revealed that Therus had had plotted against him. Minos suppressed a sigh at the thought of his own lost child – the boy was never far from his thoughts in spite of all that had happened at the end. The Palace had grown a little colder and darker with every year that had passed since that dreadful day when he had received the news that his son had betrayed him and had later been lost at sea. Perhaps it would be nice to have some laughter return to these chambers; to once again hear youthful voices ringing. You are getting ahead of yourself, he sternly reminded himself. The boy has yet to indicate that he would be willing to stay. He brought his eyes up to face Jason again, noting that the young man was watching him nervously once more.

"Your Majesty," Jason began softly, "Ariadne said that you had something you wished to discuss with me… an offer that you wanted to make."

Minos sighed.

"I do," he admitted, "but I do not think you are ready to hear what I have to say yet."

"My Lord…"

Minos held up one hand to stop the young man from protesting any further.

"I will not brook argument on this subject," he said firmly. "Let us first deal with the army at our gates and give thought to other, more personal affairs afterwards. We do not at present have the leisure to consider the implications of any decisions that may be made and decisions made in haste would not do either of us any credit I fear. For now let the matter be closed." Minos allowed a soft smile to grace his features. "Know though that my word to you will hold true, however. Once the present situation with the Amphigeneian incursion is over we will speak of the matter again and then you will be free to go where you choose. I have no desire to hold you here against your will and wish you to take the time to consider the implications of any offer I might make to ensure that the decision you make will be the right one."

Jason hesitated for a moment.

"Thank you," he said.

"A man must choose his own path," Minos answered, looking down into the pool again. "The Fates may spin a man's moira and the Gods give him a destiny, but it is up to the man himself to follow the path laid down before him. My own choices have led to the throne. Others have chosen a different course. Who is to say which of us is right? I once believed that I desired the throne above all things and yet I would not sacrifice a single moment of my daughter's life for it. Perhaps then my choices along the way have been wrong but they were my own… as your choices must be your own."

Silence stretched between them again but it was a silence that was more comfortable than before – though neither man could specifically have said why. It was broken by the sound of rapidly approaching feet – not quite running but certainly moving at a fast walk – disturbing the tranquillity of the courtyard. As the two men turned to see the approaching newcomer, Pythagoras came into view, hurrying along with his head down, a little out of breath. As the young genius spotted the King he skidded to a sudden stop, his eyes wide and bowed his head deferentially as quickly as he could. The sight of one of his best friends sitting alongside Atlantis' ruler startling and discomforting him.

"Forgive me Your Majesty, I was looking for Jason," he stammered quietly.

"With unseemly haste," Minos remarked with a raised eyebrow and a frown. "Your message must be urgent indeed for you to move so quickly." He looked at the gaping young man. "It would therefore be best if you delivered it with all speed."

Pythagoras gulped.

"Yes… of course," he murmured and turned towards Jason. "You asked me to come and fetch you when it was time to go back. The Queen should be at your chambers shortly to resume her lessons."

"Then by all means go," the King said before Jason could respond. "I do not think either one of us would wish to incur your mother's wrath were I to detain you here."

"Thank you My Lord," Jason said softly, reaching for the crutches alongside him and levering himself to his feet.

"Oh and Jason," Minos added, making the young man turn back suddenly, "as you would appear to be back on your feet it is my desire that you should join your mother, Ariadne and I for supper." He spotted the barely concealed flash of panic that darted across the young man's eyes and leant forwards to reassure him. "It will not be a large or fanciful affair," he said. "There will be no other guests and we will dine in the small dining room which is reserved for family only. I believe that it will benefit us all to begin to understand one another and I am of the opinion that this will be a good place for us to begin. Your friends may accompany you on this one occasion if you so desire."

Jason swallowed hard but nodded curtly, unable to think up a single reason at that precise moment in time as to why he simply could not attend a meal with the King and Queen. Plus it had hardly been voiced as a request, he reminded himself. It was clear that Minos expected his attendance and was simply informing him of what was going to happen. At least the King had made the concession to allow Hercules and Pythagoras to accompany him – although part of Jason cringed at the thought of his burly friend sitting down to eat at the royal table given that his love of food had a tendency to override his table manners at the best of times. That would antagonise Pasiphae even more, the young man realised with a worried frown.

"Good," Minos said shortly. "That is settled then. I will ensure that a servant is dispatched to fetch you at the appropriate time."

As the two young men quietly made their way back towards the corridor that led towards Jason's chambers, Minos turned back towards the central pool, finally allowing the serenity of the place to seep into his bones, calming him and removing the cares of the day. He was beginning to like what he saw of his wife's son very much he decided thoughtfully, although Jason clearly still had a great deal to learn and a long way to go before he could ever take his rightful place within the family. The King turned his mind to contemplate the offer he wished to make the young man once the current military situation was over and more than ever hoped that Jason would ultimately come to the right decision.

* * *

The two boys were deep in conversation as they stepped back through the door into the chamber that Jason had been loaned.

"And where exactly have you been?"

The Queen's frosty voice made them both jump. If Pasiphae hadn't been slightly concerned about her son potentially losing his balance and doing himself even more of an injury, and hadn't still been more than a little irritated by his attitude yesterday she would have found their reactions amusing. As it was she folded her arms and raised an eyebrow, her lips pursed disapprovingly.

"I have come to continue your instruction," Pasiphae continued. "Imagine my surprise when I arrived here to find you missing. So I ask again, where have you been?"

"I'm sorry," Jason answered. "I didn't mean to make you wait. The doctor said I could start moving around a bit and I needed to clear my head. I was in this courtyard place a couple of corridors over. Pythagoras came to fetch me back." He turned to his friend. "Actually could you give us some time on our own?" he asked softly.

"Of course," Pythagoras answered quickly. "I will be in the next chamber. I have to inform Hercules of our changed supper plans anyway."

"You don't mind?"

"Not at all," Pythagoras said gently. "I will return later."

As the young mathematician slipped quietly out of the room, Jason turned back to face his mother to find her watching him with a quizzical expression.

"I wanted to apologise for yesterday," he said. "I don't really have any excuse for losing my temper the way I did. I was tired and not feeling particularly well but I shouldn't have lashed out like that. It was rude of me and I usually try to have better manners than that."

Pasiphae looked closely at the young man, once again feeling a little rush of pride. Gods but he _was_ handsome, her boy. She could just imagine the stir he was going to cause with the young women of the nobility – although she had no intention of allowing him to become embroiled with any of _them_. Not that she truly thought he would of course – he was far too attached to Ariadne for that.

His thick dark curls had been trimmed back a little she noted. Not perhaps as much as she would have ideally liked but, given the story she had overheard him telling his friends and how much he clearly disliked cutting his hair, she was willing to accept it without comment. At least the length was respectable now and in reality she would have hated to see those curls completely cut away – he wouldn't have looked like Jason anymore if that had happened.

He was watching her now, his expression so earnest that Pasiphae found herself softening without being consciously aware of the fact.

"Thank you," she murmured. "That cannot have been easy to say."

"I owed you an apology," Jason answered simply. "I wanted to last night but you didn't come back."

Pasiphae sighed.

"I had duties to attend to," she answered.

"Supper with the King's advisors?" Jason asked. "Ariadne told me," he went on in answer to her surprised look.

Inwardly Pasiphae was pleased to hear him taking an interest in what was going on around him. Somehow she hoped that it boded well for the future. She gestured towards two seats near the fireplace.

Come," she said. "Be seated and we will begin once more. I do not believe for an instant that the good doctor would be happy with you standing around in your current condition."

Jason nodded and moved towards the chairs. As he neared them he hesitated and turned back to the Queen.

"I have a temper," he said deliberately ignoring Pasiphae's snort of agreement, "and I'm stubborn and headstrong. I tend to speak my mind when I shouldn't and I'm not always the most diplomatic… what I'm trying to say is that there will probably be times when we butt heads and… I'm still not sure I can be who you want me to be but I will do my best with Anaxandros and whatever offer the King has to make to me I will think about it before I answer… I won't just say no automatically."

"Then that is all I can ask," Pasiphae answered, placing a warm hand in the centre of his back. She gestured towards the seats once more. "Let us begin."


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Well this chapter is definitely a bit later than I intended it to be. Sorry. My only excuse is that it really didn't seem to want to write itself so I hope it's alright.
> 
> A big thank you to those of you that reviewed the last chapter though. Please don't forget to let me know what you think of this one...

"Will I do?"

Pythagoras exchanged an exasperated yet fond look with Hercules before turning back towards their other friend. Jason had asked that question twice already and the young genius wasn't sure what else to say to reassure him. He was clearly working himself up which worried the blonde mathematician more than a little; if Jason were that on edge then he could see this evening's supper being pretty unsuccessful. As he watched his friend dragged his hand through his hair anxiously, messing up curls that he had just finished combing down into some semblance of order. Pythagoras sighed. He loved Jason – he really did – but his nervous energy this evening was beginning to wind his friends up.

"It will all be fine," he said for the third time smiling widely. "There is nothing to be worried about."

"Nothing to be worried about?" Hercules snorted from somewhere behind him. "We're going to sit down and eat with the King and Queen – who, let me remind you, may well be an evil witch – and you say there's nothing to be worried about? We'll only have to look at them wrong and it'll be…" he dragged one finger meaningfully across his throat.

Pythagoras manfully resisted the urge to strangle his old friend. Sometimes he really wondered whether Hercules had the brains he had been born with. Their goal was supposed to be to calm Jason down – knowing that he would be the one that was under constant scrutiny this evening – not to upset him even more. He turned back to his younger friend having pulled one last cross face at Hercules and earned a confused look in return. Jason looked back at him with wild eyes, his faster than usual breathing indicating his disturbed state. He looked almost ready to bolt and Pythagoras was under no illusions that had Jason not been shackled by crutches right now that is exactly what would have happened. He sighed quietly again.

"Everything is going to be fine," he said again soothingly.

At another incredulous snort from Hercules he half turned.

"I'm trying to stop him worrying!" he hissed in annoyance.

"Right… right… of course," Hercules responded. "Pythagoras is right," he rumbled to Jason, although his tone sounded far from sincere. "I'm sure everything will be fine."

"Do you really think so?" Jason asked a little desperately. Everything had been going so well so far today and he had a deep fear of messing it up.

"Yes," Pythagoras answered with a smile. "Don't think of it as going to have supper with the King and Queen. Think of it as simply going to eat with your parents."

"I actually think that's worse," Jason muttered.

Pythagoras rolled his eyes and grabbed a small bone comb from the table, intent on straightening his friend's wayward curls before their presence was required by the King. Before he could approach properly though the comb was plucked from his fingers by his dark haired friend, hissing slightly and unable to hide the faint flicker of pain that danced across his eyes as he stretched.

"I'm fine," Jason attempted to reassure Pythagoras, noting the worried look the young genius exchanged with their other friend – although he did wrap one arm protectively around his sore side as he spoke. "It's only when I turn a bit quickly or stretch too much that it hurts. I keep forgetting that I've got cracked ribs."

"Indeed," Pythagoras said sitting down next to his friend, "and although they are healing rapidly it will still take time… as it would for any broken bone to knit back together. The process has begun very well but it will still be some weeks before your ribcage is fully healed and you are completely free of pain."

A clatter behind them made both boys jump and turn rapidly, Jason with one arm curled around his still aching ribcage. Hercules sheepishly righted the stool he had just knocked over and turned back to face the boys.

"Sorry," he said. "No harm done though, eh?

Jason attempted a faint smile, although his stomach was doing backflips the closer they came to tonight's meal. Really it was ridiculous, he decided. Why was he so nervous? Why did he suddenly care what these people thought of him? He'd never been particularly bothered by the opinions of others in the past – at least when it came to himself. Two days ago he would have gone out of his way to avoid having contact with either the King or Queen (although a little more contact with Ariadne would have been nice) and now here he was worrying about the impression he was going to make while sitting down to a meal with them. If the Gods really did exist he had the uncomfortable feeling that they were making one almighty joke at his expense. He sighed and then looked up as he became aware of the fact that Hercules was calling his name.

"Sorry," he muttered, dragging the small comb through his hair and trying to stop overthinking everything.

Hercules dropped down onto the bed on his other side with a sigh and folded his arms, looking at Jason meaningfully. Jason for his part really hoped that this wasn't the prelude to one of Hercules' lectures because he really didn't think he could handle one of them right now. The burly wrestler cleared his throat and raised an eyebrow as he continued to stare at his friend.

"Now listen," he said firmly, "Pythagoras is right. It'll all be fine. You're not doing yourself any good getting yourself into a state about it. All it is is a little bit of supper. Nothing really to worry about."

Jason snorted.

"It's the King and Queen, Hercules," he pointed out.

"They still have to use the latrine the same way that we do," Hercules began.

Jason looked at him in horror. He was only just really beginning to get used to the idea of having a mother without the thought of her using toilet facilities. For a brief moment he wondered if this was what some of the kids he had gone to school with had felt when they had realised that their parents still slept together. Not having had parents it was just one more thing that had been completely alien to him.

"Besides it's only one meal," the burly wrestler continued, "and at the end of the day does it really matter what they think of you? We like you for who you are and if they don't then that's their loss. You've faced a lot worse than this and you know it. Killing the Minotaur for starters… or facing those bulls… or walking into Tartarus and challenging Kampê for that matter."

Jason half smiled.

"Shall I let you into a secret?" he asked softly.

Hercules nodded.

"I was terrified," Jason admitted.

Hercules grinned.

"Shall I let _you_ into a secret?" he asked. "I know." He looked at Jason affectionately. "My father used to tell me that a real hero wasn't somebody who didn't feel afraid… that you'd have to be a complete idiot not to feel fear at all… but that a real hero was someone who was afraid but did what they needed to do anyway. You've got no need to be nervous of _them_ … you're worth a dozen of either one of them and don't you forget it."

Jason looked down at his lap, fiddling with the small comb he still held and wondering whether he should run it through his curls one last time just to be on the safe side. He appreciated Hercules' words (even if he couldn't quite bring himself to believe them) but right now all his self-confidence seemed to have flown out of the window. His stomach did another backflip, ending up tying itself into a hard knot, and Jason ruefully concluded that he was probably going to have to spend the forthcoming meal trying to fool everyone into thinking that he was eating since he didn't really think he'd manage to swallow anything right now. He raised the small comb again, deciding that one last attempt to tidy his hair couldn't hurt – only to find it removed firmly from his fingers by Pythagoras.

The young mathematician was watching him carefully, his blue eyes steady.

"You look fine," he said again. "Besides if things get too grim we can always get Hercules to charm them with one of his stories."

"Oh God not the off colour one about the mermaid and the Cyclops please," Jason murmured.

"Actually I was thinking of the one about the drakon and the amazon," Pythagoras answered, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

Jason frowned, although his own eyes began to dance with amusement at the same time.

"I don't think I've actually heard that one," he admitted.

"Oh you have missed a treat," Pythagoras said with heavy irony. "Get him to tell it to you after he had consumed several flagons of wine. I can guarantee that you will be conjuring up the images he describes for a week."

Jason shuddered.

"Think I might pass on that one actually," he said managing to clamp down on the snigger that threatened to erupt.

"I am sitting right here," Hercules grumbled. "If you two are quite done assa… assass… killing my character that is."

"Your stories are part of your charm," Pythagoras said. "Even if they _are_ rarely accurate."

"I'll have you know that everything I tell you is completely true," Hercules argued. " _Almost_ completely true," he added as an afterthought.

Jason snorted. The banter between his friends was helping even if he did realise that they were only doing it for his benefit; were deliberately playing their parts to support him. Once again he felt a warm little glow as he had so many times in the past as he thought of just how much his friends were willing to do for him. He wasn't entirely sure he deserved their loyalty or their love but would never stop being grateful for it.

A sharp rapping at the door drew him back out of his thoughts once more.

"Come in," he called out cautiously.

The man who stepped through the door was clearly a servant, although it was equally obvious that he was a fairly high ranking one. He looked at Pythagoras and Hercules with barely concealed distain before allowing his gaze to settle on Jason.

"The King has instructed me to escort you to the small dining room My Lord," he said punctiliously, although his tone when he uttered the title 'my lord' bordered on sarcastic. He had, after all, seen this same boy sentenced to leap the bulls some months ago and knew full well that he was only a peasant – why he was being asked to treat the young man as though he were nobility was anyone's guess but he didn't like it one bit and allowed it to show.

Jason bristled slightly. Whilst he hated the thought of being referred to by any sort of title – hated the very idea that anyone might think he was superior to them simply by accident of birth – he didn't like the man's attitude in the slightest.

"Thank you," he said with a slightly cold smile. "We will be with you shortly."

"His Majesty will not be kept waiting My Lord," the servant sneered.

Jason's smile widened.

"May I ask who you are?" he queried softly.

"I am King Minos' personal servant," the man professed proudly, "and I must insist that you come with me now."

"I will only be a moment," Jason answered. "You may wait outside." He kept his voice even and his gaze firmly on the servant, hoping that the man couldn't tell how uncomfortable he felt inside.

"My Lord," the servant began again.

"Do not worry," Jason said coolly, "I will make sure that His Majesty learns of your… behaviour and how devoted you are to your duty."

It was a barely concealed threat that Jason felt more than a little guilty for uttering. It did, however, have the desired effect of removing the arrogant servant from the room – a fact for which Jason was inordinately grateful as the reality of the situation was that he had been bluffing at best. As far as he knew Minos would not listen to a word he said anyway and he had no real desire to get the servant into any trouble in spite of the man's attitude problem.

Once the man had gone Jason let out an explosive breath and reached for the cup of water that rested on a table at the bedside. He took a long drink to settle himself again and put the drinking vessel back down before turning slightly as he felt Pythagoras' eyes boring into him.

"What?" he asked defensively.

"Do you really think it is a good idea to keep the King waiting?" Pythagoras asked calmly.

Jason chuckled.

"No," he admitted, "and I don't really plan on making anyone wait for long anyway. I was only going to make his 'personal servant' wait for a minute or two. I just didn't like his attitude."

Grabbing his crutches he pushed himself to his feet, making sure he had his balance before turning back to his friends.

"Come on," he said. "Let's go and face the lions in their den."

* * *

Pasiphae was feeling decidedly on edge as she sat at the supper table awaiting the arrival of her son. Jason was taking longer to arrive than expected and the Queen felt her annoyance building at his tardiness. Then there was the King's insistence that the boy's friends should join them for this supper as well. Peasants sitting down to dine at the royal table? What had Minos been thinking? Pasiphae shuddered at the thought of what their table manners might be like – especially the fat one. If it had been up to Pasiphae the pair would have been turned out of the gate with firm instructions never to darken the doorstep of the royal household again on pain of death rather than being invited to dine.

Still she had risen to the challenge admirably. Jason of course was to be seated between herself and Minos. Whilst the Queen was well aware that the boy would probably have preferred to be seated near Ariadne it was more important right now for him to be positioned near the King so that they could come to know one another a little more. Furthermore it was absolutely vital that he be seated near herself so that she could correct any deficiencies in his manners as soon as they cropped up.

The problem of where to position his friends had remained, however. Much as Pasiphae would have liked to have relegated them to another room (one far distant for preference – in the servant's quarters perhaps or better yet in their own hovel in the city) somehow she didn't think that that would comply with Minos' wishes. In the end she had placed the older one opposite her son and the younger, clever one at the far end of the table opposite Ariadne. That way at least she could ensure that she could quickly bring the King's attention to any of the disgusting habits that the clearly gluttonous fat man was sure to have. She was fairly certain that the invitation to dine was not one that would be extended again once Minos saw just how inferior these men were.

She risked a look at her husband. Minos was deep in thought, frowning deeply at the table. Knowing that he hated lateness even more than she did, Pasiphae's annoyance at Jason grew even further. The boy was supposed to be trying to make a good impression not offend the King. A noise from the doorway made her turn in her seat. Jason had tried to slip into the room as quietly and unobtrusively as possible but froze as he realised every eye in the room had turned to look at him, bearing a startling resemblance to a wild deer caught by a hunter. Pasiphae frowned. The boy was nervous, she realised with a start. Still his nerves didn't excuse his late arrival and the Queen felt her expression hardening into something distinctly forbidding, letting Jason know in no uncertain terms that his tardiness had been noted and disapproved of.

"Ah Jason," Minos greeted the young man. "I had begun to think that my servant had lost his way while fetching you. Come… be seated." He gestured to the seat between himself and the Queen.

"Forgive me My Lord," Jason answered quietly, lowering himself into the indicated seat. "Your servant did his duty perfectly. It's my fault that we're late… I can't move as fast as normal with these things." He gestured towards the crutches that Pythagoras was in the process of taking off him and propping against a wall.

"Of course," Minos murmured. "Your injury should have been taken into account and my servant dispatched earlier to fetch you. Rest assured it is not a mistake that will be made again." A brief smile touched his lips. "Although I would hope that it will not be long before you know the way to this chamber without being shown."

As Pythagoras and Hercules slid into their ordained places under Pasiphae's direction, Jason looked at the King with a sinking feeling. Clearly this supper was not intended to be a one-time occasion then. He fought hard to refrain from biting his lip. Somehow he had vainly hoped that if he did this tonight they would leave him alone afterwards.

"Yes Your Majesty," he muttered.

Minos scowled at the barely audible answer. The boy would need to be taught to speak audibly at all times he noted almost absently. He certainly had no intention of having to strain his ears to hear what his stepson was saying. He made a mental note to broach the subject with Pasiphae and ask her to add it to her instruction of her son. It would not do after all for them to meet with Anaxandros and have the rival monarch not be able to hear the boy.

The King's thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of a host of servants bearing dishes of food. As was customary they began by serving the King first, offering him first choice of all the dishes and then spooning the morsels he desired onto his plate, before moving on to the Queen and then to the rest of the table.

"No thank you."

Pasiphae frowned again and turned to stare at her son. So far the young man had been unfailingly polite – more so than was strictly necessary with the servants – but he had also refused every single dish he had been offered. Surely he could not be that picky where food was concerned? From what she had seen through her secret trips into the city to watch him over the last three months Jason and his friends often had to be more than a little creative about where their next meal was coming from. It hardly seemed likely, therefore, that he would have the luxury of being a fussy eater; of refusing any food on the basis of taste.

"Just leave the dish," the booming voice of Jason's older friend said.

Pasiphae nearly smiled. It seemed the man was fulfilling all her expectations of gluttony. She gestured silently to the surprised servant to do as he had been requested and noted with a little surge of triumph the frown on Minos' face. It was with some surprise then that she watched as Hercules, far from filling his own plate to overflowing as she would have expected, first reached out and deposited a small spoonful on the empty plate of his dark haired friend before taking his own helping and thanking the servant. He did this with two or three more dishes as they were brought round, appearing to carefully consider what he was putting on Jason's plate, selecting some dishes and rejecting others. Then he sat back and watched his friend with a thoughtful expression, waiting until Jason looked at him, his hazel eyes mutinous, before speaking.

"You must be hungry," he said gently. "You should eat something."

"I have no appetite," Jason answered flatly.

"Jason you've not eaten a thing since breakfast yesterday," Hercules went on firmly. "You lose weight too easily as it is and I for one am not going to stand by and let you make yourself ill by not eating."

Jason shook his head.

"I'm fine," he answered.

"Like you were fine last week when you fainted at the top of those stairs?" Hercules asked. He shuddered. "When I saw you lying at the bottom of them… I don't _ever_ want to go through that again."

Pasiphae frowned as the mutinous look in her son's eyes morphed into something decidedly more guilty. There was clearly a story here that she was unaware of – and a story that related to the fall her son had so recently sustained. Mentally reviewing the conversation she came to the realisation that Jason's lack of appetite was obviously something that was worrying his friends and was something that they had argued over before. It could well be something that she would need to monitor closely she decided.

"You need to eat properly in order to heal as well," Pythagoras piped up from the far end of the table. "Your ribs are knitting back together well but it will happen much faster if you eat a good diet. Besides, you know I worry."

Jason nodded and took a small bite of food. Hercules smiled and turned his attention to his own supper, eating with gusto but with far more restraint than he usually exhibited.

Conversation around the table was more than a little stilted to tell the truth as supper continued. The servants and guards had been dismissed to give the royal family and their guests some privacy and to allow conversation to flow freely without the possibility of being overheard. If either the King or Queen had hoped that sending the servants away would help the evening along it had not worked. Minos frowned as he watched his stepson picking listlessly at the food on his plate, pushing around more than he was actually consuming. It had been a mistake to sit the boy between himself and Pasiphae he decided. He should have thought it through a little more and positioned Jason nearer to Ariadne. Then he might have engaged in conversation a little more instead of retreating back into his shell. He answered any questions that were asked of him politely enough but it was clear that he was only saying what he thought the King and Queen wanted to hear. Minos' frown deepened. What he had seen of Jason in the past had made him believe that the boy was forthright to the point of being outspoken and he couldn't imagine that that would have changed all that much in the last few days.

The King glanced around the room thoughtfully. Ariadne was deep in conversation with the young man opposite her. Minos smiled. His daughter could be relied upon to rise to any occasion although he had to admit that she seemed genuinely interested in what her young companion was saying. Pasiphae had referred to the lad as the "clever one" so perhaps his conversation was varied enough to keep the Princess' attention. Minos made a mental note to ask his daughter what they were talking about later. At the opposite end of the table Pasiphae appeared to be growing frustrated by the failure of her efforts to engage her son in conversation. Jason was not playing along it seemed. The boy seemed lost in thought, still pushing the food around his plate as both his mother and his older friend watched him with apparently growing concern. The big man… what was his name? Oh yes… Hercules… that was it… had stopped eating and was watching his friend's distraction with a frown. Eventually he reached out with one meaty hand and gently tapped the edge of Jason's plate. The young man started slightly and looked up at the burly man with wide eyes. Hercules gave an exasperated smile and quirked an eyebrow at the untouched food in front of his friend.

"Sorry," Jason murmured scooping up a spoonful, "I was daydreaming." He had the grace to look embarrassed.

"It would be as well if you could keep your mind where it was supposed to be." Pasiphae couldn't keep the reprimand out of her voice. "If this were a state occasion allowing your mind to wander in this way could well be viewed as rudeness and cause an incident. It is impolite enough at the supper table."

Jason's eyes flashed fire. He hadn't been deliberately rude and allowing his attention to wander certainly hadn't been intentional. At first he had simply been concentrating on trying to choke down enough food to keep everyone happy and to keep said food in his rebellious stomach. After a little while though his mind had drifted back to the present circumstances and to his father's actions. It was still so much to take in; still so unreal. No matter how hard he tried his mind just kept drifting back to the painful realisation that his father hadn't really wanted him; hadn't cared enough to stay. He still wasn't entirely sure what to make of Pasiphae either. She was by turns either kind or forbidding, flicking between the two modes as the mood took her. Every part of him was screaming that he shouldn't trust her – shouldn't listen to her or let her inside his defences – and yet something inside him responded to her touch and to her kindness almost automatically. It was all very confusing.

"I said I was sorry," he ground out from between clenched teeth. He had promised himself that he would keep a better rein on his temper tonight but he could feel the edges fraying already.

"That is all very well but it must not happen again," Pasiphae retorted sharply. She glanced around the table and noted that all conversation had gone silent and all eyes were on her and Jason. "I do not mean to seem harsh," she went on, her tone softening noticeably. "It is simply that I do not want anyone to think ill of you."

"As you do?" Jason asked softly with no rancour in his voice.

Pasiphae's breath caught in her throat.

"I will admit that I do not know you well," she murmured, "but I do not think ill of you. I am aware that you have many good qualities and are certainly more virtuous than me… but I believe that you require polish. You still have many rough edges that need to be smoothed away. It is not your fault," she insisted, seeing Jason flush again. "You have not been brought up to our way of life. Whether you believe it or not I am trying to act in your best interest's child."

"I'm hardly a child," Jason answered. "I've been an adult for a few years now and looking after myself for a long time." The room seemed to have narrowed to just the two of them once again.

"You forget," Pasiphae responded softly, "I remember the very moment you were born. I know exactly how old you are. I would hope that you would understand how difficult it is for me to reconcile the young man that I see before me with the memories of the child that I knew," she sighed. "You might have no memories of me but understand now that I have many memories of you. I buried those memories deep within my heart so that they could not destroy me but I did not forget."

The Queen fell silent. For a few moments nobody spoke. Then Minos reached for his wine goblet casually, deliberately intending to restart conversation in the room. He glanced surreptitiously towards his wife and stepson, noting that they were watching one another carefully, both too caught up in their own private world to take notice of the room around them. The King frowned. It was unlike his wife to apparently forget where she was and spoke volumes for both her state of mind and her single minded concentration on the young man at her side. It would be down to him to bring them both back to reality he decided, and to focus everyone's attention on the current situation. It would be far easier to tackle their family business once the Amphigeneians were off their doorstep.

"I have received a response to the message I despatched last night to Anaxandros," he said with studied nonchalance. Both Pasiphae and Jason turned to face him immediately.

"And?" the Queen demanded.

"As you are aware the truce we are currently under was due end at dawn tomorrow should I have failed to respond to Anaxandros' missive. To that end I despatched a messenger last night to request a personal audience with Anaxandros. I would imagine that he believes I wish to discuss terms. He will posture and try to demand a surrender and I will refuse. It is the way of things. He will then expect us both to appoint champions. To this end he has allowed a three day extension to the truce to allow a pavilion to be erected before the city gates in the neutral ground between his army and the city walls. We will meet there at midday three days hence." Minos turned to Jason. "Anaxandros will not be expecting _you_ ," he said. "We will catch him unawares. It is unlikely that he will accept who you are but it may just throw him off balance enough to make a mistake... If he is to have any hope of having his claim to the throne of Atlantis accepted by the other states he will have to pause to investigate my claims… will have to try to disprove your identity… and that may be all the delay that is required to allow our allies to draw closer." He paused. "I am glad of the extension to the truce," Minos admitted. "It will allow you a little more time to become comfortable with the role I am asking you to assume – however temporary that role might be – and will allow you and I to come to understand one another a little more. It will also allow you a little more time to heal… which I will admit was a concern. We cannot afford to show any sign of weakness in front of the Amphigeneian King."

Jason looked at the King for a moment, unsure of how to respond. He understood everything Minos was saying and understood his own part in what was to come so what was there to say really? Clearly Minos required some sort of response though if the expectant look he was giving Jason was anything to go by.

"I'll be ready My Lord," the young hero said softly, hoping that this response would be enough.

Minos smiled gently.

"I have no doubt of it," he answered. "Your mother will continue to instruct you in the manners and bearing that Anaxandros will expect from a prince of Atlantis," he went on, "and I will expect you to listen to her and learn quickly. However, I would request that you spend tomorrow morning at my side. There are people who you must meet in order to be fully prepared." He hesitated. "Some of these people may appear a little hostile at first," he admitted reluctantly, "but I will ensure that they will co-operate fully."

The King almost winced at the venom he saw springing into his wife's eyes. Given her obvious desire to claim her son and have him by her side Minos had the feeling that Pasiphae would be turn into a tigress at any perceived threat to Jason. Once again he was grateful that she had not been by his side at the meeting with his advisors this morning. Pasiphae would not have taken some of their suggestions regarding Jason kindly.

"We will have an early start in the morning," Minos continued turning his eyes back to his stepson. "You will need a good night's sleep and I will expect you to be present for breakfast in the morning. Your mother and Ariadne both have duties to undertake at first light so it will just be the two of us but I believe that we can spend the time profitably. There are things that it would be wise for you to know before you meet those of my advisors who have been entrusted with the knowledge of your presence here."

Jason swallowed hard, feeling his stomach knotting tighter than ever. A meal spent solely in the company of the King was not something that he could look forward to. He was bound to get something wrong and offend the man in some way.

"Yes Your Majesty," he answered as evenly as he could.

Minos could not fail to notice the dismay with which the young man reacted despite his obvious attempts to hide it. Was he really that fearsome that his stepson dreaded having to sit down alone to a meal with him? For a brief moment the King considered offering to allow the lad's friends to accompany him but decided against it. The truth was that Jason's companions would not be able to accompany him either to the meeting with the King's advisors or with King Anaxandros. Sooner or later he would have to face the situation without their support and Minos believed that he would ultimately be doing the lad no favours if he allowed their presence now. On a more personal level he did wish to get to know Jason anyway. The boy seemed a peculiar mix of outspoken honesty and remarkable uncertainty and Minos found himself wanting to observe Jason to find out what his true nature actually was. Then perhaps he could begin to predict how the lad would respond to the offer that he was planning on making him once the current crisis was over.

"Then that is decided," Minos said firmly. He arched an eyebrow in the direction of Jason's still semi-full plate. "For now though there is still food to be eaten," he stated firmly, "and the problems of tomorrow must be put out of our minds." He looked enquiringly at his stepson. "I am led to believe that you were raised far from the shores of our great city."

"Yes My Lord," Jason responded politely, although he could not help but tense at the thought that Minos was about to ask questions that he could not answer.

"Then perhaps you have not heard the story of the foundation of this great city?"

"No," Jason answered. "I haven't heard that story."

"Ah," Minos said. "Then allow me to enlighten you while you eat."

* * *

_A tall man strode across the floor of the Temple of Poseidon, his green cloak flapping around the back of his legs. The border of the cloak was woven with a silver thread forming a deep pattern and delineating this particular personage's rank and status. A small troop of green clad soldiers fanned out behind him, taking up positions around the great chamber of the Temple as their leader approached the main bomos in the shadow of the great bull statue. In front of the altar the King of Atlantis stood with his wife and daughter at his side. Minos stood with his head held high, an animal at bay but still unbowed. The green cloaked warrior approached him. A scar ran from the corner of his mouth up into his hairline, pulling the mouth into a permanent sneer. He stared at Minos with an arrogant and cruel smile. He had won. The line of Atlantian Kings ended today._

_From the side of the chamber a soldier approached, dragging the Oracle with him, one slim arm held in an iron hard grip, his fingers digging in with a force that was bound to leave bruises later. The leader of the group turned his cold gaze on her without a word, his lips drawn back with pleasure as an unholy light came into his eyes._

" _Let all men know that Poseidon has abandoned his favoured city," he growled. "He will not save you."_

_At a click of his fingers the Oracle was dragged over to the bomos and bent backwards over it, held in place by two warriors. The enemy leader approached her with his sword raised and…_

Jason tossed in his sleep, mumbling words under his breath. The image of the Oracle about to be sacrificed on the main altar of the Temple was enough to shock him into half waking but before he could come back to full wakefulness he sank back into troubled sleep once more.

_The fight was brutal as slowly the Atlantian defenders were pushed back through the streets of their city._

" _Fall back," Dion's voice rang out. "Fall back."_

_They would regroup at the designated position several streets away but for now they would have to get there. The world narrowed down into sharp focus; stabbing, hacking, slashing, kicking – using every skill and trick in his armoury to push back yet another opponent and get away. The ground underfoot was slick with blood, mixing with the thick mud to form a treacherous condition. It was his footing that betrayed him in the end; his boots sliding on the slippery ground and depositing him on his back before he could even scrabble for purchase. With the air knocked out of him he stared blankly at the soldier looming above him curved blade raised to deliver a killing blow that he knew would come before he could manage to block it._

_Then suddenly – unbelievably – Hercules was there smashing the soldier away from him with an enraged roar, the war hammer he had selected whistling through the air with incredible speed. He reached down with one meaty hand and pulled Jason up by the neck of his tunic, shoving the young man in front of him towards the rendezvous point where reinforcements awaited them._

_From where they regrouped they pushed forwards once more, bolstered by reinforcements drawn from the sections of the wall not currently under attack. Eventually, shortly before dawn broke bringing an end to that interminable night, they managed to push the Amphigeneian soldiers back out through the Telapius Gate and close the great bars that held it shut against any intruder. It had been a simple mistake that had allowed the Amphigeneians into the city streets and one which would not be quickly repeated. The weary defenders breathed a brief sigh of relief knowing that it would only be a matter of time before the enemy archers and siege engines resumed their bombardment once more._

_Jason leaned against the battle scarred wall of a house and ran a weary hand over his face and through his tangled and sweat drenched hair._

" _They will come again," Pythagoras murmured, looking towards the gate. He looked about as tired as Jason felt._

" _And we'll push them back again when they do," he answered with certainty._

" _How can you be so sure?" Pythagoras asked softly. Somehow in the pale light of the breaking dawn it felt almost sacrilegious to raise their voices._

" _Because I'm an optimist," Jason responded._

" _Many more nights like last night and you'll be a dead optimist," Hercules rumbled._

The dream faded away as Jason began to rouse once more. He rolled over and felt the warm and comforting shape of Isosceles nestling into his side. Without ever really waking properly he sighed softly and curled himself around the cat, subconsciously drawing reassurance from her presence.

_The wooded grove was beautiful and peaceful. He glanced behind himself to where Pythagoras and Hercules stood watching the scene before them with obvious happiness before turning back to face the front, straightening the hem of his tunic anxiously. He wasn't entirely sure why he felt so nervous. Surely he should be happy on this day of all days. Without being consciously aware of the fact he fidgeted where he stood, pulling once again on the hem of his rough homespun tunic, the top that he had worn since arriving in Atlantis so long ago now still feeling more comfortable than the finer garments his mother customarily attempted to make him wear._

_Then she was there before him and all thoughts of nerves flew from his mind. His Ariadne. She was so very beautiful, dressed in a simple white shift with a wreath of flowers adorning her dark hair, the locks falling loosely about her shoulders. Would the people of Atlantis recognise their princess if they saw her right now, he wondered idly even as he stepped forward towards her and caught her delicate hand in his own. She had never seemed lovelier to him than she did at this moment positively glowing with happiness. Without a word he bent his head to hers and captured her lips with his, deepening the kiss with all the sweet promise that the future would bring. He could feel Ariadne smiling against his mouth and felt his own lips quirk in response. This was what he had been dreaming of; the moment that made everything worthwhile._

Jason woke up with a start. His dreams had been so strange lately. Not nightmares per se but odd images and feelings; scenes that he almost felt he should recognise. He shook himself to try to clear his head and fished around under the bed for his crutches, intent on finding a cup of water to refresh his suddenly dry throat and settle himself. He would have to try to get some more sleep afterwards. Minos had been right that he really ought to try to get a good night's sleep before meeting the King's advisors in the morning. Jason had a feeling that he would need all his wits about him at that point and it would be no good at all going into it with a head that felt like it was stuffed full of cotton wool because of too little sleep.

This evening's supper had proved to be quite interesting in spite of his fears. The King was not quite as good at telling stories as Hercules (and certainly the stories he had told were nowhere near as off-colour as some of the burly wrestler's offerings when he was three sheets to the wind) but they had still been fascinating to listen to. Jason had found himself being drawn into the narrative almost in spite of himself. Perhaps the more interesting thing was that the King had decided to try to put him at ease by telling the stories of the history of the kingdom. In a strange way Jason was touched by how hard Minos was trying.

It didn't mean that there hadn't been moments of awkwardness of course. Nor did it mean that the young man wasn't dreading breakfast in the morning where it would be just him and the King on their own. Thanks to Hercules drawing attention to his lack of appetite Jason had been forced to choke down far more food than his stomach had been happy with this evening. Nerves had made him nauseous and his stomach had knotted and twisted painfully with every bite he had forced himself to consume. Once his friends had disappeared to their own chamber for the night he had ended up retreating into the small closet that formed the latrine to bring back everything he had eaten.

Jason sighed as he plonked himself down at the table near the dying fire. No doubt Pythagoras would be upset if he even attempted to keep from the mathematician the fact that he had not been able to keep any food down this evening. Well he wasn't about to wake his friend up to tell him now so it would just have to wait until he saw the young genius again. It wasn't as if he was actually unwell anyway, simply a bit more worked up and stressed than was really good for him. He poured out a cup of water from the jug on the table and sipped at it, staring into the fire moodily. Tomorrow he would meet some of the council for the first time and two days after that would stand at Minos' side while he faced the Amphigeneian King. Beyond that who knew where he would end up. If the siege continued then he had no doubt that sooner or later he would end up taking his part in the defence of the city. But afterwards? What would happen when the King actually had the time to sit down and work out what he wanted to do with his newly acquired and unexpected stepson?

In actual fact he had no reason to believe that Minos would not keep his word, he decided. The King had been more than fair since everyone had discovered what Jason's heritage actually was. In fact, the young man thought humourlessly, he was the only person in all of this mess who hadn't lied to him or concealed any truths. He didn't blame his friends for their evasions and untruths – couldn't really be angry about their desire to protect him – but the lack of trust still stung a little. No the thing that worried him the most was what Minos would ultimately want of him; what he would expect Jason to do. The King had been scrupulous in refusing to talk about the future beyond the end of the current siege apart from reassuring Jason that he would be free to go and that he would be given the time to make his own choice about where his future lay. But what choices would he be offered? The more he thought about it the more he became convinced that whatever else happened he would not be free to return to his normal life in the city with his two friends. And even if Minos _was_ willing for that to happen Pasiphae was unlikely to go along with it.

Jason sighed morosely and sank a little deeper in his chair, pulled down by dark thoughts. A chill breeze slipped through the cracks in the shutters and made him shiver, catching at the sleeves of the linen nightshirt he had taken from the carved chest at the end of the bed (and really it was ridiculous how full that chest was – how much clothing did Pasiphae think he needed?). He really ought to move from where he was sitting. Perhaps he should go and find one of the others as he had promised he would if insomnia hit. That would mean waking them up though and Pythagoras in particular needed his sleep. Usually Jason would have been able to slip into a room without waking the mathematician but the crutches he was currently using were cumbersome and made him awkward. Plus Hercules was notoriously difficult to wake up and Jason had the sneaking suspicion that he simply wouldn't be able to rouse the man without disturbing his blonde friend as well.

Anyway this didn't really feel like one of the bouts of insomnia that plagued him from time to time. It was more that tonight's offering of weird dreams had disturbed him a little, darkening his mood and setting his mind whirling. They gave him the strangest feeling; a feeling of foreboding and deja-vu all at the same time – which was odd to say the least. It would help if they didn't feel quite so real he decided. Of course it would also have helped if the images he had seen in his dreams the other night hadn't apparently come true while they were saving Cassie from the slavers. He was being ridiculous, he told himself firmly, it was a coincidence that was all. He sank even lower in the chair and began to chew at one thumb nail.

" _Jason."_

The light and strangely choral voice (or were they voices?) sounded again. Jason jumped and couldn't stop himself from looking around the room for the source of the noise – although he knew deep down that there was no-one there and the voice was only audible in his own head.

" _Jason."_ The voices called again.

"What is it?" Jason murmured, feeling vaguely ludicrous for talking to what amounted to thin air. "What do you want?"

" _It is time Jason."_

"Time for what?" the young man asked suspiciously.

" _Time for you to come to us,"_ the voices chided gently. _"We have waited so long for you. So many years have gone by. We can wait no longer. Come to us now."_

Jason felt his breath rasping slightly, speeding up in response to his increasing heartbeat.

"What is it that you want from me?" he asked.

" _We want to help you,"_ the voices murmured. _"We want you to embrace your destiny; to embrace who you are. Come to us now and we will help you."_

The pulling sensation started at the back of his head, building until the pressure was almost too great and he pushed himself to his feet without real awareness of what he was doing.

"Alright, alright… I'm coming," he muttered and felt the pressure in his head and chest ease almost instantly.

Whatever the voices were they were clearly powerful and more than a little impatient. Jason felt himself being drawn forwards even as he grabbed his crutches and began to move towards the doorway. It occurred to him with if he was caught or if anyone noticed he was missing from his bed there would be hell to pay but the pulling sensation was so strong that it quickly erased the thought of staying where he was. Taking a deep breath he stepped through the door and out into the corridor, slipping as quickly and quietly as he could into the shadows.

* * *

It was ridiculous really, Jason decided as he made his way across the deserted square that linked the Palace and Temple, just how unobservant the Palace guards actually were. It would have been one thing for him to have managed to slip past them when he was in full health and at full strength – that could almost have been forgiven given his level of agility – but it really was something else for him to have successfully circumvented them while on crutches with only one properly working leg. The noise his crutches made on the tiled floors alone should have been enough to make the guards investigate and it wasn't as if he was able to move that quickly at the moment. It hadn't even been all that hard to avoid them; simply a matter of dodging into a doorway or behind a pillar when one of them passed. Come to that why exactly did the guards carry torches at all times? Surely that would give any intruders early warning of their arrival and would make it harder for them to see into the shadows where the torches did not reach as their eyes would not be adjusted to the dark.

There hadn't even been a guard on the main door. That was the thing that surprised Jason the most. Although that wasn't strictly true; there _had_ been a guard on the door when he arrived, keeping to the shadows as much as he could, but one of the others had called out that it was break time and the guard had left his post without waiting to be relieved and thereby allowing Jason to slip out unchallenged. Actually why had the guard been guarding the Palace doors from the _inside_ anyway? Surely his post should be outside, overlooking the courtyard and preventing any potential intruders from getting in, _not_ standing inside in the warm and preventing members of the royal family from getting out.

Jason shook his head ruefully. He really felt he ought to tell the King just how slack the guards were. The only problem with that was that he would probably have to explain just what he was doing out of bed and trying (successfully as it happened) to sneak out of the Palace in the first place. Somehow he didn't think "the voices in my head told me to do it" would go down well as an excuse and would probably lead to some very awkward questions – and possibly even to him being locked away in a nice padded room somewhere. So coming straight out and telling Minos just how bad his guards were was out of the question then. The young man frowned as he reached the bottom of the steps to the Temple, knowing he would feel guilty if he didn't find some way of passing the information on to the King even if he had taken advantage of the guards' laxity himself this evening.

That was a problem to consider in the morning, however. For now he needed to find out what the voices that had been calling to him for the last day were and what they wanted of him, and get back to bed before anyone discovered he was gone. He paused to catch his breath before beginning to mount the steps leading up to the Temple, knowing that the stairs were likely to be a bit of a challenge. A sudden gust of wind made Jason shiver once again. He really ought to have got dressed before he had decided to come wandering but the force drawing him onwards was inexorable. Still he wouldn't like to hear what either of his friends would have to say on the matter if they knew he was out here dressed in only trousers and a thin nightshirt, growing steadily more chilled as each moment passed. He hadn't even stopped to put his sandals on – a fact which he now deeply regretted as the biting cold of the flagstones sunk into his feet.

" _Jason."_

"I'm coming," he growled as he mounted the steps.

The Temple was as full as he remembered it being from his own stay there the night before last, and he was forced to take a circuitous route to the Oracle's chamber to avoid being seen by anyone. For the most part those taking shelter here – whether because they had nowhere else to go or because they had been injured in the fighting and were residing in the makeshift hospital – were sleeping deeply. Jason didn't want to take any chances though. There was no real way he could explain his presence here – especially in his current state of undress – so it would be better to avoid any accidental encounters if he could. With a brief guilty start he wondered if Talos and Cassie were still here or whether they had managed to get home. There hadn't even been time to enquire after them before he had been whisked away to the Palace and he hoped that Talos hadn't thought he was being rude.

The Oracular chamber was even darker than usual, plunged into a heavy pervading gloom that put Jason on edge. He paused at the bottom of the stairs and tried to peer into the darkness. Where now? The cavern seemed empty; bare. Yet the voices still called their siren song in his head and the intensity of their command still drove him onwards, pulling him towards the darkest part of the chamber, furthest away from the stairs and permanently plunged into gloom even when the rest of the room was lit. As he reached the far wall a door seemed to coalesce out of the darkness and Jason stopped, tracing his hands over it unconsciously; staring in curiosity and wondering why he had never noticed it before.

" _Come to us,"_ the voices beckoned. _"Step through the doorway and come to meet us. All will be revealed. We are waiting for you."_

Jason swallowed and felt for a latch or handle; something he could use to open the door. There was nothing obvious and he stepped back, momentarily disconcerted.

"That door is forbidden," Melas' deep voice rang out across the chamber, making Jason jump. The Chief Priest didn't sound angry yet his tone was still forbidding. "It is a holy place. Only the Oracle may enter freely and only she may determine whether another is allowed inside."

Melas crossed the room and came to stand at Jason's side.

"Jason!" Hercules' voice coming from somewhere on the far side of the chamber was sharp and a little breathless and for a moment Jason wondered in a dreamy, distracted way how the big man had got here, but the voices were stronger than ever here and drove all other conscious thought from his mind.

"Who's in there?" he asked distantly, eyes never leaving the door.

Melas frowned as he looked at the young man alongside him. The boy was clearly dressed for bed not for wandering around the Temple late at night and he seemed faraway and bemused.

"The Sanctuary contains the relics of Poseidon," he rumbled gently. "Precious gifts that the God has infused with his spirit. Items used in only our most sacred rites. Such things are not for anyone to touch lest they be defiled."

The priest was aware as he spoke that footsteps were approaching across the chamber but kept his sole focus on Jason, noting the way the young man never turned from the door, cocking his head slightly as though listening to something that only he could hear, one hand gently moving across the stone surface. Hercules appeared from somewhere behind him, moving around Melas intently, clearly meaning to draw Jason away from the door and back to some form of normality.

"You can hear them speaking can you not?" The Oracle's clear voice startled everyone as she padded across the chamber, her feet making no noise.

Jason turned towards her.

"Yes," he admitted. "They keep saying that they want to meet me… Who are they?"

The Oracle smiled gently.

"You were drawn here by them," she said softly. "Drawn by their power. Few there are indeed who ever hear their voices or learn of their presence."

"What is going on here?"

Jason turned at the sound of the new voice, his heart sinking. Behind Hercules Minos was watching the proceedings with an indecipherable expression, a small group of guards arrayed behind him. Jason shot Hercules an almost accusatory look which the burly wrestler returned with a cool look of his own, his meaty arms folded firmly.

"Your Majesty," Melas began.

The Oracle stepped forwards with the same gentle smile, sparing barely a glance for the King and his retinue.

"Come with me," she said to Jason reaching a hand out to the door and clicking a hidden latch.

"Where are we going?" Jason asked.

"To meet them," the Oracle answered simply. "They are very keen to meet you."

"Why me?" Jason enquired.

"You are not like other men," the Oracle murmured. "You have only begun to touch the edges of your gifts. They have waited for you for a long time Jason… as we all have." She reached out and touched his arm with one warm hand. "Come and I will show you a part of the Temple not usually seen."

She stepped through the doorway and beckoned Jason to follow her.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Thank you for the kind words of encouragement I've been given since the last chapter was published. This one has been somewhat of a problem child so I hope it doesn't disappoint too much. I've played around a little with Greek mythology here but I figure that if the series can do it then so can I! ;-)

The chamber that the Oracle led Jason into was pitch black. It was only to be expected the young man supposed. After all they were underneath the city, in chambers carved deep within the hill at the centre of Atlantis – partly natural caves, expanded and improved by the hand of man. The Seer stopped and Jason stopped with her, unable to see anything and unwilling to risk his footing when he could not even see whether there was anything on the floor waiting to trip him up. He already had enough problems with his knee he decided and really didn't need to make things any worse by falling over now. Behind him he could feel other bodies closing in and wondered briefly which of the other occupants of the Oracular chamber had followed them in here. The clearing of a throat told him that one of his companions was Hercules and he felt a surge of gratitude – whatever was about to be revealed the big man's presence meant that he would not be facing it alone.

The chamber flared into sudden brightness, the brilliance of the light stabbing Jason's eyes after the darkness of a moment before. He winced and squinted his eyes so tightly that they were barely open, struggling to adjust to the sudden change in lighting level. The young man peered around himself with streaming eyes, noting that both Hercules and Minos had followed the Oracle into the chamber, although the King's guards appeared to have been left outside, and that neither one of them seemed to be faring any better than he was, squinting and trying to turn their eyes away from the light. At the back of the room, alongside the dark opening of the door they had just come through, Melas was shielding his eyes with one hand standing near the torches he had recently lit. The torchlight alone could not have been responsible for the sudden flare of light however, and Jason turned back to the front to try to see what was illuminating the room so brightly.

Then he saw it. The entire wall ahead of him was set with crystals; each one picking up the light from the torches and reflecting it back in a myriad of colours. As his eyes finally began to adjust to the light Jason couldn't help the little gasp of wonder that escaped him. He turned slightly to find the Oracle watching him with a wide smile and knowing eyes – she at least showed no evidence of discomfort from the sudden change in light level and Jason couldn't help wondering whether it was because she had been prepared for it in advance or whether her otherworldly vision protected her somehow.

"I know to close my eyes before Melas lights the torches," she murmured softly, "and to open them slowly afterwards."

Her smile was infectious and Jason very quickly found himself responding in kind. He looked curiously around the room. Compared to the chamber where the Oracle met the faithful and made her predictions this room was small – although to be completely fair that was not exactly hard. At the sides small niches had been carved out of the natural rock, smoothed into flawless arches, and each one contained a delicately made pedestal. Those pedestals held a variety of different objects – the relics used in the sacred rights that Melas had spoken of Jason presumed – and carefully positioned crystals refracted light onto the pedestals, bathing them in luminescence. Ahead of him, in front of the crystal wall, sat a large pool of water, surrounded by a low tiled wall and fed by a spring bubbling out of the wall itself. The whole room seemed to thrum with power that washed over Jason like a wave, leaving him slightly breathless and off balance. He glanced quickly at Hercules and Minos and was surprised to note that neither of them gave the appearance of feeling anything – merely looking around the chamber with amazement.

He turned around again to find the Oracle watching him shrewdly.

"The Sanctuary is a living place," she said. "It senses the power that is within you and is responding to it. That is what you can feel."

"Why me?"

The Oracle smiled again.

"Come and be seated and I will try to explain. I cannot tell you all you wish to know because the Gods have not chosen to reveal all the answers but I will tell you all I can."

She gestured to the low tiled wall in front of the pool and moved with Jason to sit on it. Once they were both seated she turned back to the boy with a gentle smile and caught his hands in hers.

"You are the final result of the mixing of two very powerful bloodlines," she said. "Colchian and Atlantian. There have been individuals with unique gifts on both sides of your heritage… and like your mother you are touched by the Gods."

Jason heard the twin gasps from Hercules and Minos and glanced up at their surprised expressions with some confusion.

"I don't understand," he admitted.

"To be touched by the Gods is to be blessed," the Oracle answered. "It means that you are a vessel for their power on Earth. When you were born the Gods poured a little of their power into you… shared a small part of their abilities." She turned towards Hercules. "You must have known that he is not like other men."

"I knew there was something," Hercules acknowledged, "but not that."

"So the voices I've been hearing was the Sanctuary talking to me?" Jason asked, his confusion evident in his voice.

"No," the Oracle said. "The Sanctuary is alive and the items it contains have been infused with the spirit of Poseidon but it does not have a voice. The power contained within these walls is simply responding to the power that is inside you. That is why the light is a little brighter than normal and why you and I both feel a little overwhelmed."

Jason blinked. If the Oracle was feeling overwhelmed in any way she was exceptionally good at hiding it. She seems as serene and unruffled as ever.

"No the voices are something quite different," the Seeress went on, "and it is time that you met them. They have been waiting for you for a long time now." She gestured towards the still waters of the pool. "Look deeply into the water," she instructed. "All will become clear."

She smiled as the young man followed her instructions almost automatically, noting the faraway, dreamy look that came into his eyes as he began to adjust to the power of the chamber; a power that was no longer buffeting him as it had at first but beginning to seep into him – a warm glow that wrapped its tendrils comfortingly around him even though nothing could actually be seen.

From his position in the middle of the cavern, Hercules frowned. He had only understood about half of what the Oracle had been talking about; enough to know the truth of what she said – that his young friend was indeed touched by the Gods – but not really understanding what she had meant about hearing voices or feeling the power of the place. It was equally plain, however, that Jason had understood exactly what she meant and was most definitely feeling something that Hercules could not. The burly wrestler's frown deepened as he watched the young man. Jason was clearly only half present in the room at the moment – his mind distracted by whatever he was hearing or feeling – and Hercules found the semi-vacant expression on his face more than a little disturbing. It was far too close for comfort to the way Jason had been after his breakdown, although the logical part of the big man's mind acknowledged that the circumstances were vastly different here and that his young friend was not actually lost to him right now. Even so he couldn't help the surge of protectiveness he felt and he found himself eyeing the rest of the room suspiciously, daring anyone – even the King – to do anything to disturb or upset Jason in any way.

Jason stared into the heart of the pool, all conscious thought drifting away from his mind and the rest of the world fading into the background. Somewhere far below the surface of the water a light began to glow, not completely unlike the light he had seen in the water when the sub had imploded around him. His heart rate quickened as the memories flashed through his head but he didn't seem to be able to wrench his eyes away from the surface of the water. From deep within the ball of light a face began to appear, becoming two and then three and finally four, moving rapidly up to the surface of the water. They were beautiful, ethereal, ageless faces, formed of the water itself. First one slim hand broke the surface, then another until at last the four figures coalesced in front of Jason.

The young man could hear the gasps from behind him as the others saw the figures at last but he didn't turn, staring in wide-eyed wonder. The four figures were definitely female and were perfect; beautiful and timeless. They were also made completely of water and glowed with an internal light which shimmered and rippled down their long tresses and through their translucent forms. They were both real and fantastical, the crystal wall behind them indistinctly visible through their forms. They danced and twirled through the water, their voices raised in bright laughter. Finally the four girls (for Jason couldn't really identify them as anything else) settled back down, half in the water that they were created of. One of them swam towards him.

"Jason," she said softly. "We have been waiting eagerly to meet you."

The voice was the one that Jason had been hearing in his head – although singular now, without the apparently choral element. Jason jumped slightly. He wasn't sure why he was surprised to hear the voice out loud and yet somehow he still was.

"Who are you?" he asked breathlessly.

"They are naiads," the Oracle answered gently from alongside him. "Spirits of the brooks, streams and springs. Handmaidens of Poseidon… his companions throughout eternity… they have watched over Atlantis for many years. Annipe, Diogeneia, Melusine and Bateia."

The nymph nearest to Jason smiled.

"You are just as Poseidon promised you would be," she said.

"How do you know me?" Jason frowned.

The nymph laughed, a light, girlish sound that echoed through the cavern and lightened the hearts of all who heard it.

"We have always known you," she said. "Your life has long been foretold. We knew you would one day return… although that day came sooner than we imagined. We knew the very moment that you touched the shores of Atlantis."

"How?"

"Our sisters told us," the nymph responded. "You were in their domain."

"Your sisters?"

"The Nereids," the Oracle supplied helpfully. "The nymphs of the sea. Companions to Poseidon when he is in that domain and saviours of sailors caught in storms."

"He's very pretty," one of the other nymphs said, swimming forwards to peer at Jason and reaching a delicate hand out towards him. "May I keep him?"

Jason's hand stretched towards the naiad of its own accord. His fingers were so close to hers that he could feel the fine spray coming off her hand as it moved when he felt an iron-hard grip on his wrist, dragging him away again.

"Jason! No!" The Oracle's voice was sharp and jarred him back to reality as he turned to look at her in astonishment, his wrist held firmly in her grasp, her fingers digging into his arm. "You must not touch her," the Seer admonished.

Jason stared at her with wide eyes.

"Why not?" he asked.

The Oracle sighed.

"They mean you no harm," she said gesturing to the naiads with her free hand, "but if you were to touch her while her heart was filled with desire you would be lost forever."

Jason swallowed hard.

"Okay," he muttered. "No touching. Got it."

"Melusine!" the nymph who had first spoken to Jason admonished her sister, her flawless face twisted into an expression of anger. "He is not for you! He is not for any of us! Lord Poseidon would be angry if we were to interfere with his journey. He might cast us aside forever."

"But Annipe," the second nymph pouted, "he's so pretty. We haven't known one this pretty in a long time. I wasn't going to hurt him… I was just going to play with him for a while."

"You know as well as I do that the fate of this city is tied to his destiny," Annipe stated firmly. "Go and look for a plaything somewhere else."

Melusine swam to the back of the pool still grumbling to herself.

Annipe turned back to Jason with a soft and serene smile.

"Please," she said, "do not fear us. We do not wish to harm you… only to help. Ask what you will of us and we will try to answer."

Jason glanced sideways at the Oracle and licked his lips nervously.

"The Oracle said I was touched by the Gods. Is that true?"

The nymph's smile grew wider.

"Yes," she answered, "although you are different to most. When someone is described as being touched by the Gods it usually means that one God has blessed them. For your mother that Goddess was Hecate. For others it might be Apollo or Aphrodite or Poseidon himself."

"Why am I different then?"

"Because more than one God leant their power to your creation," Annipe said. "It had to be that way."

"Why?" Jason asked. "What's so special about me?"

"It had to be that way," Annipe repeated. "There was no other way. Your parents were destined to have no children. Atlantis needed an heir so Lord Poseidon interfered with the course of nature to allow for your creation… but even he could not act alone. The Gods knew that what they did would make you different… special…but even they could not predict who you would become. Your journey has been foretold since the dawn of time but the Gods did not know when they stretched forth their hands to assist in your creation that you were who they were creating."

Jason hesitated for a moment.

"To be touched by the Gods," he began. " _Is it_ a blessing or is it a curse? Before I came to Atlantis my life was pretty ordinary… but here I seem to veer from being a wanted criminal to being told that I'm the saviour of the city from week to week. I never really know where I am anymore. I just can't seem to stay out of trouble… and it's not like I go looking for it."

He felt the Oracle stiffen and saw all for naiads flinch.

Annipe sighed.

"It is both blessing and curse," she said. "You are not destined to be ordinary Jason… are not destined to live a simple life. Your path through life is a momentous one and your journey is only just beginning. It will live long in the hearts of men." She reached out one hand and hovered it near to Jason's face, the spray from her fingers ghosting against his skin. "Do not think of it as a burden though. The Gods mean it to be a gift."

One of the other nymphs – one of the ones who had hung back so far – moved forwards and peered up at Jason.

"Melusine is correct," she said with some amusement, "you are indeed a very pretty boy."

"Diogeneia," Annipe's voice held a warning note.

"Do not worry sister," Diogeneia said in the same amused tone, "I do not desire him – even as a plaything. I understand his importance." She peered at Jason again. "So many dark burdens lay on such young shoulders," she said. "Allow us to help you. Sorrow clouds your heart… allow us to take a little of that sorrow away."

"I don't understand," Jason admitted.

"You do not need to," Diogeneia answered. "Simply trust that we mean you no harm and allow us to give you the gift of peace for this one night at least." She smiled. "Close your eyes," she instructed.

Without knowing why he was doing it Jason did as he was told without thinking. One by one the nymphs raised their voices in a strange chorus; their song light and otherworldly. It caught at Jason's heart and seemed to take all his troubles away, leaving him feeling lighter than he had in a long time. Whether the effect would last or not he didn't know and right now he didn't really care either. Once again he felt the faint spray of water against his face and then cold fingers of water grasped his forearms, drawing him forwards to lean over the pool. Jason opened his eyes and found himself staring straight into the eyes of Diogeneia, her face inches from his own, her eyes compassionate and her mouth turned up into a gentle smile. In the back of his mind he heard the Oracle's horrified gasp and Hercules calling his name urgently, his tone half strangled, but somehow he couldn't bring himself to worry. Diogeneia drew ever closer as the nymphs song swelled to a crescendo drawing all worry and all conscious thought away from Jason, leaving only calm in its wake.

"There," the naiad said, smoothing her hand through his hair before drawing away. "That is our gift to you."

She slipped back across the pool to where her sisters waited for her to join them.

"We will see you again," Annipe said softly.

Without another sound the four nymphs disappeared back under the surface of the water, sinking down into the depths of the pool until they could no longer be seen. For a moment the white light at the heart of the pool pulsed and then winked out.

The Oracle grasped Jason's face and drew him around to face her.

"Jason," she said with urgent anxiety.

Jason blinked and swallowed hard, shaking off his reverie almost visibly.

"I'm alright," he murmured.

"A strange encounter indeed," Minos stated from somewhere near the back of the room.

Jason nodded, a growing weariness creeping over him.

"Yes My Lord," he answered quietly. He looked at the Oracle. "Thank you."

"I have done nothing but place you in danger," the Seeress admonished herself softly.

"No," Jason answered. "I wasn't entirely sure that I wasn't hearing things. I feel… better. I can't explain… The world doesn't seem as dark as it did before. Thank you for sharing this place with me."

"They _were_ most anxious to meet you," the Oracle said. She smiled. "I do not believe they would have left either one of us alone until they had achieved their desire."

"Probably not," Jason acknowledged.

"You are sure that you are unharmed?" the Oracle asked again.

Jason opened his mouth to speak and felt a heavy hand on his shoulder. He looked up into the concerned face of Hercules and gave the big man what he hoped was a reassuring smile before turning back to the Oracle.

"I'm fine," he said. "I'm just a little tired."

"So you should be," Hercules rumbled with some irritation. "It is the middle of the night after all."

"Mmm," Jason agreed. He shivered.

Hercules frowned.

"Time we got back in the warm," he declared. "Especially since some of us appear to be a little underdressed." He glared at Jason, taking in the thin nightshirt and bare feet with a raised eyebrow.

"Indeed," Minos stated firmly from his place near the door. "We must return to the Palace and then I believe we will need to have a discussion about this night's… activities."

Jason gulped and tried not to grimace or cringe. Somehow he didn't like the sound of the discussion that the King was planning on having with him. He risked a glance at Hercules and winced at the dark glower on his friend's face. It looked like he was in for two lectures tonight whether he wanted them or not.

* * *

The Palace corridors were deserted as the three men made their way back through them, flanked by the small troop of guards who were present to ensure the safety of the King. Their leader, a giant of a man who clearly had more muscles than brains, kept eyeing both Hercules and Jason suspiciously. Now that the powerful urge that the naiads had engendered – the pull to find where the voices in his head were coming from – was gone the younger man was nearly dropping with exhaustion caused by too little sleep over the previous few nights, drained of all energy. He began to lag behind both the King and the burly wrestler and Hercules was incredibly glad that they had used the secret passageway that linked the Palace and the Temple – a passageway that Minos had revealed to him as they had hurried to catch up with Jason earlier – rather than walking the longer way across the courtyard between the two buildings. The King had ensured that Hercules understood that the existence of this passageway was a closely guarded secret known only to a handful of people and that to reveal that secret would lead to severe and permanent consequences.

As they moved down the corridor to whatever destination the King had in mind Hercules felt Jason half stumble behind him and turned to help his friend just in time to see the Guard Captain, clearly irritated by the slow pace that the young man was moving at, prod the lad in the back with the hilt of his sword. This caused Jason to stumble even more, forcing him to put his right foot down hard to stop himself from falling. Without even thinking about it Hercules caught hold of his shoulders, steadying him easily. He could see the wince that Jason tried to conceal as his leg was jarred and saw the little flair of pain rise unbidden to the familiar hazel eyes. Hercules couldn't help the growl that rose in the back of his throat, escaping past his clenched teeth and aimed at the soldier who still seemed intent on pushing Jason into moving faster. The Captain glared back, half drawing his sword as a threat to keep moving. It could all have become very nasty very quickly if it hadn't been for Minos, his eyes blazing, stepping between the two men.

"Captain," he said frostily, "you will take your men and patrol the perimeter of the Palace. I will require a full report in the morning detailing how a young man who can clearly barely walk managed to evade every guard within the Palace." He turned towards Jason. "How did you get past the guard on the main doors?" he asked firmly.

Jason shrugged.

"He was in the entrance hall when I got there Your Majesty," he said. "I waited for a few minutes and one of the other guards came and called him for a break and he just left… so I went out through the door."

Minos' eyes hardened even further.

"I see," he said. "You will investigate this fully Captain. Why did the man leave his post without relief? And why were there no guards outside the door of the Palace or the Temple? It has been a standing order for years that the doors of the Palace will be guarded at night and protocol states that in a time of war or emergency the Temple will be similarly guarded. Why was this not done?"

The Captain stared at his monarch for a few moments, his mouth working silently in the air. Minos had the distinctly uncomfortable impression that the man hadn't really understood a word he had said. At times like this he really missed Ramos' intelligence. It had been unfortunate that he had had to select a new Captain of the Palace Guard while he had still been recovering from his illness and had been distinctly distracted by the turmoil between his wife and daughter. There had been no obvious candidates for the job and so he had given in to the urgings of Lord Kephalon and simply picked one of the longest serving members of the guard. It had been a mistake. He should have held on until General Dion could be recalled to the city from the farthest borders of the kingdom where he had been stationed for so long. At least then he would have been assured of an utterly loyal and _intelligent_ Captain. But Kephalon had never really liked Dion the King recollected now. He had always feared the man's sharp mind and potential influence over Minos. The King sighed.

"Just go and ensure that all the guards are at their posts," he said wearily.

The Captain thumped his fist to his chest in the traditional salute and gesticulated to his men to follow him, grunting at them as he did. Minos watched them leave with a grim expression. Whilst he doubted the intellectual abilities of the Guard Captain to investigate the failings of his troops he had every intention of getting to the bottom of the matter personally – even if it would be one more call upon his extremely limited time. The fact that his stepson, injured and not really knowing the layout of the Palace, had managed to get past the guards without being spotted by any of them was, to Minos' mind, distinctly disturbing. After all if the boy could get out then perhaps an intruder could get in. The King was not willing to trust the security of his family to luck and if the guards could not be trusted to do their duties then action would need to be taken.

Once the patrol was out of sight he turned back to his two companions, his eyes softening noticeably as he took in just how tired the younger of the two looked right now. Jason was clearly spent, although his eyes looked calmer than Minos had seen at any point since he had been told of his parentage; his heritage. His older friend was still standing protectively close and once again the King was struck by the clear loyalty that these men showed to one another.

"Follow me," Minos instructed. "It is not much further."

Hercules nodded curtly and moved to put an arm around Jason, ready to provide his friend with physical support. He was fully prepared to carry his younger companion if necessary although he would tease him unmercifully about it later if it happened and actually he really couldn't see Jason's pride allowing it to happen. He was rewarded with Jason's most exasperated look as the brunette pulled away to move forwards under his own steam. The burly wrestler shook his head slightly; too stubborn and too independent by half, that's what Jason was. The lad was barefoot, only half dressed and exhausted and still wouldn't accept the help offered by a good friend. He huffed out a mildly annoyed breath. Jason had successfully avoided the lecture he had been planning about running off after the slavers but by the Gods he wasn't going to get out of a discussion about tonight's idiocy. Although Hercules had a feeling that Minos had plans for the same sort of chat. Oh well he would just have to wait for the King to finish before launching into his own scolding – presuming Minos left enough of Jason for him to scold that was. He stepped forwards to follow Minos and Jason down the dimly lit corridor.

The room they stepped into was not large by the standards of the Palace but was still richly decorated and elegantly furnished. A large table stood against one wall covered in pieces of parchment and writing implements. A chair stood in front of it with its back towards the door. Minos made his way over to the desk and lit a lamp, turning the chair around to face the room and sitting himself down in it, motioning with one hand for his two companions to find seats as he did. There was a small couch against the wall nearest to the door and Jason sank gratefully onto it, allowing his head to drop back against the wall and closing his eyes wearily. The seat dipped alongside him as Hercules dropped down with an audible grunt and Jason opened his eyes in time to see his older friend staring at him with a mixture of concern and annoyance warring in his eyes.

"Are you sure you're alright?" the bulky man asked.

"Yeah," Jason breathed. "Just a bit tired. I haven't been sleeping all that well for a few days."

Hercules frowned.

"I thought we agreed you'd come to me if you had a bout of insomnia," he grumbled.

"We did," Jason said, "and I haven't… haven't had any insomnia that is. I've just been having weird dreams… I keep waking up feeling like I haven't actually been to bed."

He sat up properly and rubbed his eyes. As a draft from the door hit him he shivered again. He was beginning to feel distinctly chilly and wishing he could get back to a nice warm bed. Hercules glowered for a minute and then started to look around himself for something to wrap around his younger friend's shoulders. As his eyes roamed the room he caught the King's gaze. Minos gestured imperiously to a chair on the far right of the chamber, draped with a cloth. Hercules nodded his acknowledgement and thanks as he slipped across to fetch it, returning quickly and dropping it across Jason's shoulders without a word.

Minos steepled his fingers and placed them to his lips, peering thoughtfully over the top of them at his stepson.

"Your sleep is often troubled?" he asked.

"Not really My Lord," Jason answered softly, shooting a disgruntled scowl at Hercules when the older man snorted derisively. "It has been in the past… insomnia and I were old friends for several years… but it's not so bad anymore."

Minos raised an eyebrow sceptically.

"And would your friends concur with this?" he queried.

Jason half smiled.

"Most of the time I believe they would," he said. "Most of the time it simply isn't an issue anymore."

"And these strange dreams you have been experiencing… are they related to the encounter we just had in the Temple?"

"Yes… maybe… I'm not entirely sure," Jason responded truthfully. "It might have all been linked."

"Very well," Minos said. "We will say no more on the matter for now." He gave Jason a hard look. "I believe, however, that I promised you a discussion on your earlier activities."

Jason winced.

"Yes Your Majesty," he muttered.

"I retired late this evening," the King began. "An aide brought me a report that required my immediate attention and prevented me from seeking the comforts of my chamber as early as I would have liked. I was comfortable in the knowledge, however, that aside from the guards everyone within the family chambers had long since sought their beds and were safe within these walls. Imagine my surprise, therefore, on encountering this man in the corridors as I retired to my own chamber for the night," he gestured towards the silent Hercules, "and upon asking him just what he thought he was doing sneaking through the corridors to be told that you were missing from your chambers and he was searching for you."

Jason tried hard not to bite his lip, feeling irrationally like an errant schoolboy. Why was it, he wondered, that when he had been a wayward teenager out long past curfew no-one had really seemed to care enough to pull him up on it, yet now he was an adult and could technically be out as late as he liked he seemed to be surrounded with people who would tell him off for staying out at night? The thought made him smile a little. For all being scolded was embarrassing and awkward, the feeling of being wanted more than made up for it. But while he almost expected it from Hercules now, having the King essentially telling him off was most definitely a strange experience. Part of Jason still couldn't help worrying that he'd find himself being sent back to jump over those blasted cattle if he upset Minos.

To cover his smile, not knowing how Minos would interpret it, he turned to look at Hercules. Hercules in turn glared back at him. He might be older now and semi-retired from the wrestling ring – only really returning to fighting when they were short on money – but he could still be intimidating when he chose. Jason mentally sighed. If Hercules' expression was anything to go by then the lecture his eyes were promising would be a memorable one.

"How did you know I was gone?" he murmured, hoping to provoke a little of his friend's ire and get it out of the way now when the King was present and Hercules wouldn't be able to say too much or go too far.

The older man looked at the King silently requesting the permission to speak Jason realised with a start. Minos nodded, schooling his expression to remain stern as he watched the little flicker of worry that passed across his stepson's face. Clearly the boy was expecting a distinctly unpleasant conversation with his friend later.

"You left the door to your chamber open," Hercules said tersely. "I got up to use the latrine and heard a noise outside. So I stuck my head out into the corridor to check that everything was alright and the door to your room was wide open. I thought the wind might have blown it open so I went to shut it. I looked inside and you weren't there."

"It was by sheer luck that you were seen crossing the courtyard from a window," Minos continued as though neither Jason nor Hercules had spoken. "Had I been less convinced of your desire to do your duty I might have suspected that you were trying to leave… to run away… and would have despatched guards to retrieve you. As it was, once it was clear that you were heading for the Temple it was simply a matter of using the passageway that links the Palace to the Temple… a passageway the very existence of which is one of our most closely guarded secrets," he added with a stern look at both his companions.

"And it will remain that way My Lord," Jason sought to reassure him.

"Good," Minos stated. "I am aware that there were forces at work this night beyond the ken of ordinary men and that you are subject to those forces; that you are perhaps closer to the Gods than any of us. Yet I do wonder that you ran off into the night in such an unseemly fashion and with such haste. Surely the spirits that spoke to you in the Temple could have been persuaded to wait for a more convenient hour to meet you? After all they had waited for you thus far."

"They really didn't seem to want to wait," Jason insisted. "There was this pressure in my head and I couldn't get my breath. As soon as I agreed to go and find them it all went away… but it felt like I was being pulled along constantly… I can't really explain it any better than that."

Minos fixed the young man with a hawk-like gaze, his eyes probing and assessing. Finally he nodded sharply.

"I can appreciate that you were drawn by forces beyond your control," he said. "However," he added sternly, "I wish to make something very clear to you now. As with any member of my household once you retire for the night I expect you to stay within your chambers. Whilst I am aware that you have been used to a certain amount of freedom within your life in the city, as long as you are under this roof you will abide by _my_ rules. You will _not_ run about the streets at night like a common street urchin and you will _not_ leave your quarters at any time semi-clothed. It is not appropriate for you to be wandering about in an undressed state of attire and you will not do it again. If you cannot abide by this then I will not hesitate to have a guard placed outside the door to your chamber to ensure that you stay where you should."

He threw up one hand to forestall the protest that Jason seemed about to make, noting as he did the mixture of anger and guilt that appeared in the young man's tired eyes.

"I am not trying to be unreasonable Jason," he said softening his tone somewhat, "but I must insist on being obeyed in this matter. There are people in this city – and indeed in this Palace – who would not hesitate to harm you or seek to exploit you should they learn of your identity before we are prepared for it. In order to keep your presence here a secret I had not yet seen fit to inform the Captain of the Palace Guard. He is a man of somewhat limited understanding I believe and would struggle to comprehend the need to keep your identity and presence a secret." Minos pointedly ignored Jason's snort of agreement on the subject of the intellectual capacity of the Captain. "If you had been caught tonight the guards would have believed you to be an intruder and would have treated you accordingly. I would have been informed of course but by then the damage would have been done. Then I would have been faced with the unfortunate task of facing your mother and explaining to her that you had been mistakenly arrested and interrogated by guards who were doing no more than their duty. The results of such a conversation would not have been pretty I fear. In addition the city is still under curfew and whether I liked it or not I would have been forced to punish you. Under the circumstances examples must be made and there can be no exceptions to the rules. It would have put me in an impossible position." He looked hard at Jason again. "As for leaving your chambers improperly dressed… the night is a cold one. You could easily have made yourself unwell wandering around in such a flimsy garment as that nightshirt and with bare feet. Your mother would not have been pleased at that either. You may not yet believe it but she does care about your wellbeing. Your recklessness this night could have jeopardised our attempts to deal with Anaxandros and bring this siege to an end if things had been just a little different. I would have your word that you will not behave in this manner again no matter what the circumstances."

Jason looked down at the floor.

"I am sorry," he said softly. "I didn't mean to cause any trouble. I'll try to make sure it doesn't happen again."

The King's eyes bored into the young man for a moment.

"Very well," he said with a curt gesture. "Then that is all there is to say on the subject. It is late and no doubt we should all be in our beds. Perhaps you would both care for a cup of wine before you retire. The night is cold and the wine is warming. It will perhaps settle all our nerves and help us to sleep easier." Minos motioned towards a low cupboard with a flagon of wine and several intricately moulded bronze goblets on the top.

Jason didn't even need to turn to know how pleased Hercules was at that suggestion; he could almost feel the burly wrestler's glee. It really didn't take all that much to keep Hercules happy, he thought with wry amusement. As the big man bounced up from the seat in response to the King's waved instruction to fetch goblets for all three of them, Jason leant forwards with a smile at his older friend's antics – only to be rocked by a sudden wave of exhaustion that left him vaguely dizzy. He closed his eyes and dropped his head into his hands, only to open them again as a firm hand grasped his shoulder lightly. Scrubbing his palms across his face, Jason blinked up blearily and saw the face of the King looking back at him seriously, one hand still resting lightly on his shoulder. Jason was instantly more awake – feeling like someone had tipped a bucket of cold water over him – and began to stammer out an awkward apology which Minos waved away, accepting his cup of wine from the returning Hercules with his free hand.

The big man held out a second cup to Jason. Jason looked at it blankly for a minute and then grimaced slightly.

"No thanks," he said. "I don't think it would do me much good at the moment. I just want to go back to bed to be honest."

Hercules shrugged and took the cup for himself as Minos drew back across the room and seated himself again.

"We do have a busy day ahead tomorrow," the King murmured, "and you will need to be alert."

"Yes My Lord," Jason answered.

"Then by all means go," Minos responded. "I will not detain you from your slumber any further."

As Hercules quickly drained his cup, half worried that the King would decide to take the wine away again (and it really was a most excellent vintage), and Jason laboriously pushed himself to his feet, every movement dripping with fatigue, Minos looked seriously at his stepson once again.

"I think we will keep this evening's little escapade and strange meeting to ourselves," he said firmly. "I cannot see any good coming from bothering your mother with this." A faint smile touched his lips. "She would not be pleased I fear… and speaking as one who has known her for many years I think we would all do well to avoid her displeasure."

"I will be guided by your wisdom My Lord," Jason answered with a mischievous little grin that he tried to hide.

Minos allowed a flicker of his own amusement at the young man's apparently unconscious cheekiness to show through.

"Sleep well," he said as Jason and his friend left the room, already deep in their own conversation.

* * *

The morning sun falling warmly across his face finally woke Jason from the most peaceful sleep he'd had in some time. For a few minutes he lay there too comfortable to want to move, lazily watching the patterns of light and shadow that the sun's rays created on the soft blanket that covered him. He vaguely remembered finally getting to bed last night. Hercules' lecture had been mercifully brief and delivered at a quieter volume than expected – probably so as not to wake anyone in the surrounding rooms. Jason had a vague memory of the big man pulling the covers up over him even as he scolded lightly and adjusting the pillows to be a little more comfortable. To be honest by that point he hadn't really been taking all that much in and he was pretty sure that Hercules had known it. Like a cat he stretched and sat up, shaking off the last vestiges of sleep.

There was somewhere he was supposed to be he was sure of it but for the moment he really couldn't think of it. Pushing that to one side for now he allowed his mind to wander back over the strange encounter in the Temple last night and to then begin a quick mental inventory of himself; ribs – still aching when he stretched too far but settling down to be largely unnoticeable pretty quickly; headache and nausea pretty much gone; knee – not throbbing right at the moment and moving much easier than it had been; all in all not too bad. He certainly felt a lot more rested than he was used to, the constant edge of tiredness that seemed to cling to him at times was finally gone. Jason smiled slightly. Over the past few years he had grown so used to operating with a permanent low level of fatigue that he had almost forgotten what it felt like to be fully refreshed. It was a feeling that had gradually been coming back over the past couple of months – largely thanks to Pythagoras waging war on his insomnia with a vengeance – but in the last few days he had backslid. To feel this good about himself now was a distinct bonus.

A soft but insistent tapping made him turn to look at the door to the chamber. Before he could respond, however, the door was pushed open and Pasiphae swept into the room. Jason started slightly at the sight of her, more than a little embarrassed to be caught in bed and still in his nightclothes by Atlantis' fearsome Queen. _By your mother_ , a traitorous little voice inside him murmured and Jason was surprised to discover that for the first time since learning of his connection to Pasiphae two days ago he felt no resentment towards the fact. With that in mind he smiled shyly at her.

Pasiphae was startled. It was the first time that her son had greeted her with anything even vaguely approaching pleasure and her heart leapt a little at it. Almost unconsciously her own lips twitched up into a warm smile of greeting.

"Good morning," she said softly. "It trust you have rested well."

"Yes," Jason answered equally softly, "thank you. I slept well."

Pasiphae looked at Jason appraisingly. The dark rings beneath his eyes, so apparent just yesterday, had faded away. The young man looked calm and relaxed – relaxed in a way he had never appeared to be in her presence before. Her heart leapt a little more. Perhaps the notion of developing a proper relationship with her son was not as fanciful as she had feared.

"I am glad to hear it," she murmured.

"And you… I mean… did you…," Jason floundered and ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "Oh hell… this is harder than it should be. I don't even know what to call you."

Pasiphae sat down on the edge of the bed and turned to face the window, trying to keep both her hope and her sorrow from bleeding into her face; trying to remain the impassive untouchable Queen.

"I hope that one day you may feel able to call me mother," she said, her voice husky with the emotions she tried to hide. "For now though you may call me Pasiphae… it is after all my name."

A hand briefly took her own and Pasiphae looked down in surprise to see the strong fingers entwined with her own. Looking up she found Jason watching her with the same shy, slightly lop-sided smile he had greeted her with.

"Thank you," he said simply.

"For what?"

"For understanding," Jason responded. "I've never called anyone mother before… no matter how much I wanted to."

Pasiphae swallowed past the sudden lump that had formed in her throat. What was this boy doing to her? She prided herself on her ability to move past her emotions; to use reason in any situation. Now she felt almost like a giddy little girl again prey to the feelings that had remained buried for so many years yet had reappeared now to buffet her. She should pull away; draw back and regroup; marshal her defences against this unexpected attack of sentiment. Yet her son's hand was still holding hers; his skin so warm against her. She smiled hopefully at him and squeezed his fingers lightly, scarcely knowing what she was doing.

"Perhaps…" she murmured, "I know you will be busy meeting some of the King's advisors today… but I wondered if perhaps you would like to see a little of the Palace gardens before supper… I would like very much to show you if you were willing."

"That would be nice," Jason answered softly. He frowned as a thought occurred to him. "I'm supposed to have breakfast with the King," he murmured as the memory returned. "Weren't you supposed to be doing something at the Temple this morning? The King said you wouldn't be there for breakfast."

Pasiphae smiled with faint amusement.

"My duties at the Temple were over some time ago," she said. "It is after all mid-morning now."

Jason looked horrified at the thought of having missed his appointment with the King. Much as he hadn't been looking forward to eating alone with Minos, the thought that he might have offended the man by not turning up at all – and the potential consequences of giving offence – was not something that he wished to contemplate.

"Do not worry," Pasiphae sought to reassure him, noticing how pale the young man had gone. "Minos sent word this morning. He was delayed in retiring to bed last night by a despatch that arrived late and required his attention. He was feeling somewhat fatigued this morning and has postponed the meeting with his advisors until later. He has arranged to meet with them shortly before the midday meal. As he had decided to hold the meeting later in this morning he sent word that you were not to be disturbed. Minos believed that you appeared tired at supper last night. I will inform him that you are now awake and you will breakfast together as soon as you are arisen and dressed."

Jason swallowed.

"What about you?" he asked. "Won't you be joining us?"

"I broke my fast early this morning, alone in my room before I went to the Temple," Pasiphae informed him. "As did Ariadne," she added, forestalling his next question. "It will not be as bad as you fear," she added squeezing his fingers once again. "Minos wishes to get to know you. He wants you to be comfortable and happy here with us."

Jason looked at her quizzically.

"Why?" he asked.

"Because you are my son," Pasiphae answered, "and contrary to what you might believe Minos is not a cruel man. He wishes his family to be happy."

Jason nodded.

"I'd better get ready," he said.

Pasiphae pulled away, still smiling.

"I will arrange for a servant to bring you fresh water for washing," she said moving to the trunk at the end of the bed. She reached inside and pulled out a dark blue tunic, still simply cut but a little more formal and elaborate than anything her son had worn so far. "If you are to meet the King's Councillors you must look the part. They must not see you as a threat but equally they must see you as their superior; their Prince. Remember everything that I have taught you with regards to your bearing and you should not go very far wrong. Keep your head up at all times and do not shrug or bite any part of your own anatomy for goodness sake. Speak only when you are asked to and _be polite_. I would not have you being deferential to any of the advisors but if I hear that you have forgotten your manners then we will be speaking of it later." She hesitated. "Some of the Council are set in their ways. They will fear that your arrival will bring change. You should be wary of them. The King's chief advisor, Lord Kephalon, in particular is a man of some power and influence but limited vision."

"Yes," Jason answered darkly. "We've already met."

"When?" Pasiphae asked with a frown.

"When I first arrived the day before yesterday. Lord Kephalon found us in the chamber we'd been asked to wait in and presumed we were servants. He didn't like the fact that we were sitting down in there and wouldn't listen when I tried to tell him that we'd been invited." Jason frowned. "He said he wanted to have us all flogged and that he wanted to cut my hand off. The King came in though and he wasn't too happy about the way we'd been treated. He said something about dealing with Lord Kephalon later."

Pasiphae seethed. True there was no way that Kephalon could have known who Jason was but the sheer fact that he had treated her son that way made her blood boil. The man was nothing – less than nothing – and she would make him rue the day he had dared to even think of raising a hand against her son. Why had Minos not told her of the incident? Did he somehow believe that Jason was at fault and wanted to deal with the matter himself?

"I see," she answered shortly.

"I wasn't rude to him and I didn't lose my temper," Jason went on, growing a little nervous at his mother's reaction. "I tried to tell him – calmly – that we'd been asked to make ourselves comfortable… that's all."

"I have no doubt that the fault lies with Kephalon," Pasiphae answered sharply. "You would do well to be careful around him however. He will not take criticism or embarrassment lightly and is a dangerous man to cross. I do not know if he will be at the meeting later but if he is you must try to avoid antagonising him further. While he holds the position of chief advisor within the court he must be treated with the respect his position dictates."

Jason couldn't restrain the snort that escaped him.

"I am serious," Pasiphae said curtly. "Your role today is to go where you are told, do as you are told and only speak when you are spoken to. You will obey me in this. I do not wish to hear that you have been insolent to men who are of importance within this city. I will not have it said that any son of mine lacks basic manners."

Jason resisted the urge to sigh. Every time he thought he and Pasiphae were beginning to get along a little she pulled away again and became the Queen who everyone feared. If she would just stay with that personality he could handle it but then she would change again and start being nice. It was pulling him off balance constantly.

"Yes Your Majesty," he answered coldly.

Pasiphae nearly winced at the use of her title. Just as she had begun to believe that things might become better between her and Jason a wedge was driven between them once again. Impressing upon him the need for circumspection where the King's advisors were concerned was important though. Why couldn't the wretched boy see that she was only trying to help him? To guide him? Feeling more remote from her son than ever she stood stiffly.

"Very well," she said coolly. "I will inform the King that you will attend breakfast shortly and will instruct a servant to bring you water to wash in. Once your meeting is over you will return here and I will return to see you."

With that she swept from the room leaving Jason to prepare himself uneasily to see the King.


	20. Chapter 20

If the truth be told Minos was rather pleased with how well breakfast had gone. His little bit of deception with Pasiphae and the servants had clearly given his stepson a little extra much needed rest and the boy had come to the breakfast table looking much better than he had the night before. The boy was clearly nervous and for a time as the meal had begun the King had fished around for a topic of conversation that would put Jason at ease. From the way Jason tensed up immediately it was apparent that any discussion of his early life before returning to Atlantis was off limits for now, but eventually a little gentle prompting had led the young man to open up a little about his life in the city. He had told a tale about his friend Hercules and a pie eating contest. It was not perhaps the sort of thing that the King was used to hearing about, and part of him felt that he really ought to suggest to his stepson that it was inappropriate, and yet he found himself listening with an indulgent smile.

Jason, he was rapidly discovering, had a wry and engaging wit and a pleasing level of intelligence hiding behind those clear hazel eyes. The young man was quieter than Minos had been expecting – quieter than either Therus or Heptarian had ever been – and had none of the brashness or arrogance that all too often afflicted young men of his age. Almost unconsciously the King found himself comparing Jason to Heptarian and marvelling at the fact that they had been related in any way. Certainly Heptarian had always been keen to push himself forward – to be noticed at all times – in a way his cousin clearly wasn't. Looking back now Minos wasn't entirely sure how he had managed to mistake Heptarian's conceit for confidence; or his casual cruelty to others for leadership skills.

Would Jason be able to lead though? Of that Minos was uncertain. The boy was more than a little shy among strangers that much was certain and more unsure of himself than Minos would have believed. He didn't like talking about himself either – had tried to divert the conversation as soon as the King had raised the subject of his heroism in defeating the Minotaur and later in rescuing Ariadne – and the more Minos spoke to him the more was becoming sure that Jason was distinctly unused to either praise or even attention for that matter. Still the ability to gracefully accept praise and take credit for his own actions was something that could be learned with time and for now Jason's basic shyness and uncertainty were more than a little endearing. His simple honesty shone through and charmed the King in a way that he had not been expecting. It might well stand them in good stead during the coming meeting as well. While several of Minos' advisors were still hostile to the very idea of Jason's existence, the King had a feeling that very few of them would see the boy as a threat for too long.

Contrary to both his and Pasiphae's fears prior to meeting Jason properly he was rapidly coming to the conclusion that the lad had not been raised as a peasant either. Whilst it was clear that Jason had not been raised to privilege there were indications in the young man's manners and behaviour that he had not been brought up amongst the poorest classes either. No matter what the circumstances of his current life in the city were he knew how to behave properly at a dinner table; knew how to behave in polite society and understood what decent table manners were. Minos was distinctly relieved by that fact. It was one less thing that the boy would need to learn.

All in all breakfast had turned out to be a pleasant affair. If Jason had eaten slightly less than Minos would have expected an obviously fit and healthy young man of his age to consume – had picked at the food on offer in a slightly distracted manner – then the King had chosen not to take him to task over it. At least he hadn't had to be nagged to eat anything at all, which was a distinct improvement on supper last night as far as his stepfather was concerned. Perhaps when the lad had had the chance to settle in a little more he would begin to eat more normally. For now there was little point in worrying about things – especially when the King already had more than enough to worry about.

Now though the King's mind turned towards the meeting that was shortly to begin, even as he made his way down a corridor to one of the lesser meeting rooms – smaller and more intimate than the great Council Chamber where the court usually met or the throne room where he sat in judgement over the people – with his stepson at his side. He hoped that this meeting would be more pleasant than yesterday's and that the councillors could begin to be persuaded that the Queen's son was no threat to the city. If they could be persuaded that Jason would be of use in the present siege and that he would present no danger either to the King or the court once the siege was lifted then Minos would be happy.

Minos swept into the meeting room, his bearing and manner regal. From their positions around a large central table the half a dozen advisors who had been lounging in chairs scrambled to their feet to pay homage to their King. Minos marched to the head of the table and took in the room with a single glance. As his gaze alighted on Jason he frowned slightly. The young man had tucked himself at the back of the room and appeared to be trying to disappear into the wall. He would have to come forwards once the King had announced his identity, however. Already several of the councillors were looking at him curiously, clearly trying to work out who this strange young man was and why he had been admitted into a secret meeting.

"I see we are still waiting for General Dion to arrive," Minos said imperiously. "No doubt he has been detained by matters pertaining to the current siege. We will await his arrival before we begin."

"Are we not also waiting for Lord Kephalon, Your Majesty?" Master Epeigeus, an elderly advisor who had served since the days of King Cretheus asked. He had never really been a fan of Kephalon, as Minos now remembered, viewing him as somewhat of a pompous fool concerned only with his own interests – a conclusion which Minos was rapidly coming to agree with.

"No," the King answered shortly. "He will not be joining us."

There was a brief murmuring around the room as the advisors present wondered at the reasoning behind the exclusion of the head of the council of advisors. They had noticed his absence yesterday of course but had simply believed that he had been undertaking other duties on behalf of the King. For him to fail to be present for a second meeting, however, smacked of official displeasure and sent a worrying message to them all.

"Lord Kephalon has disgraced himself," Minos went on. "He has insulted the Queen, publically questioned my judgement, kept important knowledge from me and insulted a guest within my private quarters. I will not tolerate such behaviour. I am undecided at present as to the punishment his actions should incur and will discuss the matter more fully with Kephalon himself when I have the leisure. For now though he is excluded from all meetings where matters of state are to be discussed until such time as I deem otherwise. You will not speak of anything relating to the defence of this city with him and indeed anything that is said within these walls is not to be discussed outside this chamber even amongst yourselves. If I so much as hear rumours of what we are to discuss today I will not hesitate to have each and every one of you executed for treason. Do I make myself clear?"

The quiet murmuring rose to a rumble as the councillors muttered worriedly amongst themselves. Epeigeus looked back at his King with a faint smile dancing on his lips. Minos had grown increasingly paranoid over the years, seeing insults and plots where there were none. Whilst this was naturally a worry for his closest advisors – each one knowing that his position was only as safe as the King's latest mood – the old man couldn't help but be glad to potentially see the back of Kephalon. Epeigeus had faithfully served the crown for nigh on forty years now, his loyalty being to the city rather than to the current occupant of the throne. Nevertheless it had never even occurred to him to be anything less than utterly loyal to whoever was King. This unwavering dedication to duty had stood him in good stead when Minos had taken the throne – many of Aeson's advisors had been exiled or executed. Even those who had gone over to Minos' cause could never be fully trusted – their former oaths of allegiance to the previous monarch working against them. Epeigeus had simply carried on working quietly and faithfully in the background no matter what the turmoil about him and that had ultimately been rewarded.

That wasn't to say however that he hadn't been galled to see men like Kephalon achieving positions of authority within the Palace. In the old man's view a loyal advisor and servant of the crown should simply go about his duties quietly and efficiently and should not desire glory for himself. Kephalon had spent much of his time making himself as noticeable as possible and using his position to further both his own interests and those of members of his family. There were rumours that he took bribes to ensure that certain matters were either brought to the King's attention or rapidly lost amongst a sea of bureaucracy. He mistreated those who he felt were beneath him and flattered and fawned over his social superiors – right up to the point where he stabbed them in the back and gained their position for himself. He was also, to Epeigeus' mind, congenitally stupid and ridiculously pretentious.

"Of course Your Majesty," the old man said smoothly, cutting across the babble from the other councillors efficiently.

"Good," Minos said. He looked up in response to a noise from the doorway. "Ah, General Dion. We have been awaiting your arrival to begin."

The burly soldier marched into the room and saluted his King.

"Forgive my late arrival Your Majesty. There was a matter of discipline that required my immediate attention," he said.

Minos raised an eyebrow.

"And was this matter something which should also be brought to my attention?" he asked.

"No," Dion answered, allowing a faint smile to touch his lips. "It was a matter which was rapidly dealt with and should have no further consequences."

"Very well," Minos responded. "For the benefit of those of you who were not present yesterday – which I believe was only you, Dion – I will briefly explain what we discussed. As I informed you yesterday it has come to light in the last few days that the Queen's son who had been believed to be dead for the past twenty years was actually alive. We had managed to locate the young man in question and had obtained his assistance with the current situation. As you are all aware Anaxandros of Amphigeneia has laid claim to Atlantis on the basis of a clause within the peace treaty drawn up between King Hagnon and King Cretheus. He has been demanding that we either produce Aeson's heir or cede the city to him. I certainly have no intention of relinquishing the city to a man such as Anaxandros nor do I expect him to believe that anyone we produce is Aeson's true heir… he will, however, be obliged to at least give the illusion of considering any claims we make which will buy a little time for our allies to come to our aid. This is the situation we are in at present."

"My Lord," a rat faced man with a nasal voice began. "If I might be permitted to speak?"

"You are here to advise me Apollodoros," Minos said with a curt wave of his hand. "You can hardly offer advice if you are not permitted to speak."

"Of course," Apollodoros said unctuously. "Your Majesty is too kind. I merely wished to query whether we needed this boy who has apparently appeared so fortuitously at all. The city is strong. There is no reason to believe that it will fall before the arrival of our allies. Whilst I am sure we are all delighted that the Queen has received such happy news about her son's apparent survival, surely his claim must be thoroughly investigated by those with no vested interest in the matter. There is after all the chance that rather than being who he claims to be the boy is no more than an adventurer trying his luck with no more right to the throne than Epeigeus or I."

Minos glared.

"As you were informed yesterday the identity of the Queen's son has been confirmed. There is no doubt in this matter… and as he did not know who his parents were himself I hardly think that he can be classed as making any sort of claim." The King looked around the room imperiously. "My decision in this matter is final and I will brook no argument."

"Forgive me Your Majesty but it seems very much to me that this was discussed in full yesterday," Epeigeus murmured. "Why are we still talking about it?"

Minos stood once more and made his way over to the spot where his stepson seemed to be trying to melt into the wall. With his back to the rest of the room he gave Jason a faint smile and then turned, one hand resting warmly in the centre of the young man's back.

"This is my stepson Jason," the King announced. "I have asked him to be present so that we may hammer out the last details of the meeting between ourselves and Anaxandros two days hence. Jason these men form a small section of the royal court; are among my most trusted and loyal advisors. They have all been instructed to keep secret the knowledge of your identity but we will require their assistance in the days to come."

He moved back towards the head of the table motioning to Jason to take a seat near him as he did. The men present began to mutter amongst themselves, many of them peering suspiciously at the young man. Jason swallowed hard but sat where Minos had indicated, feeling more than a little exposed and vulnerable under the intense scrutiny from the group of advisors. As he did he found Dion reaching out across the table to clasp his hand, a friendly smile gracing his usually stern features. If the general was in any way surprised to find out that the young man he had fought beside just a few short nights ago was in actual fact the son of the Queen he gave no indication of it.

"Jason," he rumbled pleasantly, "it is good to see you again. I trust that you are well." His eyes strayed to the pair of crutches the young man had propped against the table.

"I am fine thank you," Jason answered grateful to see at least one friendly face in the room. He followed Dion's gaze to his crutches and fought the urge to bite his lip knowing that Minos would not like it. "Those are a precaution more than anything. I am hoping that the doctor is going to release me from them tomorrow anyway."

"You have met before?" Epeigeus asked Dion curiously.

"Jason and his friends helped me to flush out a band of slavers working illegally within the city three nights ago," Dion answered.

"That is beside the point," a cracked and elderly voice wheezed from the far end of the table. "What I would like to know is what your intentions are _boy_?" The tone of the enquiry was decidedly hostile.

"My intentions?" Jason asked. "I do not think I understand what you mean."

"Please do not attempt to play innocent. It will do none of us any credit." The old man who was speaking was rail thin, his head bobbing on his frail neck. Despite his apparent fragility, however, his eyes were hard and sharp.

"I really do not know what you are trying to insinuate," Jason answered, clenching one hand into a fist beneath the surface of the table where no-one could see it – the nails biting sharply into his palm.

"Come, come. You surely do not expect any of us to believe that you are simply doing this out of the goodness of your heart," the old man scoffed. "What is it that you want?"

Jason sat up straight and looked the old man in the eye unflinchingly.

"I do not want anything," he said firmly. "It is my duty to serve my city… and my King."

Around the room one or two heads began to nod and one or two faces seemed a little less hostile than they had a few moments before. Jason half turned towards the King and found Minos watching him with a barely discernible smile. He turned back to the other men in the room.

"I do not know what you expect of me… or who you believe that I am. Until two days ago I believed myself to be an orphan… certainly nothing special. You ask me what I want… I want to go home… with my friends. Although I know that that may not be possible now. I don't want power… or wealth. I just want to be able to do my duty now and then see what happens from there."

"And that is truly all you desire?" the old man at the far end of the table asked suspiciously. "I cannot believe it. I remember you now. You are the boy who fought in the Pankration… who gave offence to the Lord Heptarian and was sentenced to face the bulls…"

"Come Ceas," Epeigeus murmured, "that is scarcely relevant now."

"I would say it is very relevant," the aged Ceas wheezed, shooting Jason another hard look. "It shows that the boy has no respect for authority."

"I was coming to the aid of an old man. I could not stand by and see him abused for no reason… and I would do the same again," Jason answered truthfully.

"You see," Ceas said looking around at his fellow advisors. "He even admits it himself. The boy has no respect."

"I respect those who deserve it," Jason said.

"And who exactly _are you_ to decide who deserves respect and who does not?" Ceas argued. "You are nothing more than a peasant. Are we really to expect a peasant boy to deal with a sovereign king?"

"I would sooner be a peasant who understands basic manners and common courtesy than be a courtier who has none," Jason answered sharply. He was aware that several of the advisors were openly smiling and wasn't sure whether that was a good thing or not.

"What are we even to call him?" Ceas asked appealingly of his colleagues. "If his identity is to be kept secret from the general populous then we can hardly name him prince."

"Within the confines of these walls you will call him "My Lord" and like it," the King growled. "As far as the populous is concerned Jason will be made a champion of Atlantis… as befits the de facto winner of the Pankration and the man who saved my daughter from the brazen bull."

"If that is your wish Your Majesty," Ceas responded unctuously.

"All this is rather beside the point," Apollodoros stated in his nasal voice. "I understand that Your Majesty has been assured of the identity of the Queen's son but might I ask what form those assurances have taken? It would seem prudent to me to ensure the legitimacy of this young man's claim before we go any further."

"Don't be ridiculous Apollodoros," Epeigeus said sardonically. "There is no mistaking who the young man is. You only have to look at him to know. He is the living image of his grandmother… the old Queen."

"Not all of us are old enough to remember the old Queen Epeigeus," Apollodoros said snidely.

"Perhaps," Epeigeus answered with a surprisingly boyish grin, "but you certainly are." He turned to Jason. "I remember Queen Tyro very well," he said, "and you do look remarkably like her."

"So I've been told," Jason answered quietly. "Doctor Mnesus said much the same thing."

"Yes," Epeigeus said. "I am not surprised. As I recall the good doctor was always most fond of the old Queen."

"He may bear a passing resemblance to Queen Tyro but that is not proof positive," Apollodoros argued.

Jason was rapidly coming to realise that Ceas and Apollodoros were going to be the biggest threats to him within the room – and that Minos seemed to be sitting back to see how he would handle it. While part of him couldn't help resenting his stepfather for throwing him in at the deep end the larger part vowed that he would not let the King down; would not lose his temper no matter what the provocation and would not be the cause of any criticism being heaped upon his new family. That thought made him stop. _His new family_. Jason rolled the phrase around in his mind a few times and found that he liked it. He smiled softly.

"The Oracle confirmed that Jason is the son of Queen Pasiphae," Minos said firmly. "There is no need for further discussion on the matter."

The rat faced Apollodoros subsided instantly. Everyone in Atlantis knew that the word of the Oracle was law. The King was correct. If she had confirmed the boy's identity then no further proof was necessary. It didn't mean he had to like it though. To his mind, and to Ceas' he suspected, the boy was a definite threat. Even if he did not intend to betray the King directly and claim the throne for himself there were others in the city who would no doubt try to rise up in rebellion in his name – would use him as a figurehead for their own purposes. Any advisors to the King would find their own positions extremely precarious at that point and Apollodoros had worked too hard to achieve his position to allow some upstart boy to strip him of it now. No, Jason was a definite threat and the sooner Minos could be persuaded to dispose of him the better it would be for everyone.

It would perhaps benefit him to bide his time, however. That old fool Epeigeus had clearly been taken in by the young man. He always had been a romantic of course and had spoken in the past about the tragedy that had befallen the kingdom when the Queen's infant son had been killed. Really it should be of no surprise to anyone that he would end up fawning over the boy no matter what his initial suspicions might have been. Epeigeus was well respected within the council of advisors too; where he led many of the other advisors would follow. They were like sheep, Apollodoros thought disparagingly; all bleating stupidity and mindless adherence. Then there was that idiot general too. The man was clearly no more than a lumbering buffoon; a large pair of hands to wield a sword but with no real brains behind him. Of course he would be duped by the young man's apparent honesty and innocence (obviously no more than a clumsy act to Apollodoros' sharp mind). As long as so many of the council were coming around to support the "Prince", however, anyone who could see through him would have to be very careful. Yes, he would bide his time and wait for his opportunity to strike.

"If everyone is quite finished," the King said, "I believe that it is time to turn our attention to important matters. Anaxandros has agreed to a meeting two days hence. For now we must discuss the strategy of that meeting and plan our next moves carefully. The defences of the city must be maintained and preparations must be made for the moment when the Amphigeneians inevitably break the truce."

He called for a servant to fetch a detailed map of the city, instructing that it be laid out on the table before them. As his advisors gathered around him ready to offer their opinions, Minos spared a brief glance and a half smile for his stepson – just a slight upturning of the lips that would be barely noticeable to anyone else. Jason had done well he decided; he had kept his temper in spite of the provocation provided by several of the councillors and had not allowed himself to be cowed by their hostile attitudes. Neither had he been rude or objectionable. All in all this first meeting was going far better than the King had really expected. He made a mental note to congratulate the lad on his bearing and behaviour once their duties were completed.

* * *

He wasn't coming. By this point Pasiphae had almost convinced herself of the fact. She had left word with Jason's clever friend that she would be in the garden near the western door if her son wished to join her. So far he had yet to put in an appearance. For some time Pasiphae had wandered the paths, never out of sight of the doorway, until eventually she had sunk down onto a stone bench more in hope than in expectation that he would join her. Slowly though the hope had given way to sorrow. Jason clearly wasn't going to come. When she had suggested a walk in the gardens this morning he had seemed genuinely happy about the idea but perhaps that had simply been an act. Then again she had pushed him away again by the end of the conversation. Everything she had said had been for his own good though. Why could he not see that she truly meant him no harm? That she only wanted the best for him? _Because you tried to hurt him in the past_ , the thought crept into her head unbidden. Pasiphae sighed morosely.

This would never do of course. She was better than this; more than a weak willed emotional woman. She could not – would not – let him hurt her; would not let _anyone_ see her sorrow. She would have to find a way to deal with Jason calmly and rationally; would have to shore up her defences so that she could not be hurt by the unthinking cruelty of the boy. Did he mean to be cruel? Pasiphae thought not. But why did loving him have to be so _hard_? Didn't she at least deserve the chance to try to be a proper mother?

The slowly sinking sun seemed to mirror her hopes; the shades of night creeping over her gradually, pulling her thoughts to ever increasing depths. All too soon night would be upon her and she would have to gather herself together before supper; could not afford to let Jason see how much his apparent rejection had hurt her; could not allow anyone to see through the mask of the Queen.

"Sorry I'm late."

Pasiphae turned in surprise as Jason dropped onto the bench next to her. In spite of her determination to remain calm and aloof she couldn't help the surge of joy at her son's presence nor the smile that rose suddenly to her lips.

"I had begun to believe you were not coming," she said softly.

Jason looked a little embarrassed and awkward.

"Sorry," he said again. "The meeting with the King's advisors went on a bit longer than it was supposed to. I went back to my room and Pythagoras said that you'd told him you would be waiting for me out here… only I got a bit lost and there was no one to ask. That place is a maze." He waved one hand in the general direction of the Palace.

"I should have ensured that there was someone available to escort you." Pasiphae said. "It did not occur to me that you would not know your way here."

The silence that spread between them was not quite comfortable, although the Queen could not have explained why.

"Jason…"

"I…"

They started at the same time before breaking off awkwardly.

"Sorry," Jason murmured again.

"You do not need to keep apologising," Pasiphae said, trying to keep any hint of remonstrance out of her voice. "As far as I am aware you have done nothing that requires apologising for."

"Not yet anyway," Jason responded with a mischievous little grin.

Pasiphae blinked. He was teasing her, she realised with a certain amount of wonder. She was not used to it; was used to people being deferential and showing fear not being playful. It astonished the Queen that the cheekier side of her son's nature was apparently coming through so quickly. Almost in spite of herself she huffed an astonished laugh – just a brief sound but it was enough to make Jason's smile widen into a lop-sided grin, his dimples flashing.

"Now what was it that you were going to say?" the Queen asked gently – far more gently than Jason would ever have believed possible.

He resisted the urge to wrap his arms around himself or look at the floor and kept his eyes on his mother.

"I just… I suppose I wondered why you wanted to meet with me here," he said quietly. "Half the time I don't think you like me very much."

"Having been cooped up indoors for the last two days I thought that you might like to see the gardens… and I had hoped that we might begin to get to know each other a little better away from the duties that bind us both." Pasiphae paused. "I do not dislike you Jason. I just wish you could see… everything I have said… everything I am endeavouring to teach you… I am simply trying to help you."

She looked away.

"I know." The certainty in Jason's voice surprised her, as did the hand that crept into her own – the rough palm, callused through using a sword and manual labour, warm against hers. "And I don't mean to seem ungrateful. I'm just used to looking after myself… to living by my own rules. I'm not used to being told what to do. Until I came to Atlantis I didn't really have anyone who cared enough to really notice me. I never really felt that I fit in where I came from. I spent my life searching for something and until I came here I didn't know what that something was. I know that you are trying to help me. It is more that I don't know where I am with you. Sometimes you seem kind… almost gentle… and understanding. Then you pull away again. I don't know how to act around you."

Pasiphae's breath caught in her throat at both the honesty and the breath-taking innocence she heard in her son's voice.

"We cannot forget the past," she said. "Neither one of us. We should not attempt to ignore what has gone before. What is done is done for good or for ill. I would wish for a new beginning between us, however." She turned to face the young man fully. "Do not fear me Jason," she implored. "I do not wish you harm."

"A new beginning," Jason murmured almost hoarsely. "Yeah. I'd like that too." He offered her another shy smile. "I was sitting in that meeting earlier and one of the councillors was being kind of rude and it would have been so easy to snap back but I kept thinking that I didn't want to let anyone down… didn't want to let my new family down… and that's when it hit me: I have a family… I have parents… it probably sounds stupid to you."

"Not at all. It is an experience that I am led to believe has been denied to you." Pasiphae hesitated. "For that I am truly sorry. No child should have to grow up with a lifetime's worth of questions… without knowing who they truly are."

Jason nodded faintly – just a slight inclination of his head that Pasiphae might ordinarily have missed if she had not been watching him so closely.

"I didn't really know what having a family meant until I came to Atlantis," Jason admitted hesitantly. "It was my friends that taught me about it. I had nothing when I got here – just the clothes I was standing up in and even they weren't my own. They took me in. Gave me somewhere to stay. Made me part of their family… and never asked for anything in return. Even then I didn't really realise… didn't understand. Then a few months ago I went away to work for a couple of weeks. On my way home I was injured… pretty badly injured… and by the time I got back here I was ill – I'm told I was very ill for a while – and they nursed me between them," he paused and looked back towards the Palace. "I can never repay what they've done for me. How could I ever repay someone who sat and fed me when I wasn't strong enough to lift my own hand up? Who sat with me through nights of fever when I didn't know that was going on around me just so I wouldn't be alone? Who held me when I screamed? They accept me for who I am and love me anyway. We're a family of our own… a strange one I'll grant you… but still a family. It took me a long while to realise it… to accept that someone cared. A couple of months ago… something happened and I wasn't myself for a while afterwards. They never gave up on me. They love me and I love them and it's as simple as that really." He looked searchingly at the Queen. "I'd sooner cut off my own hand than hurt either one of them. Don't ever ask me to give them up because I won't."

Pasiphae was silent for a minute. She was beginning to understand that the ties between her son and his friends went far deeper than she had ever expected. They had clearly cared for him when no one else had and for that she had to be grateful. While she might never believe that they were acceptable companions for a prince she could not deny the love and care they had shown to Jason and was beginning to see that they would be unlikely to betray him no matter what the provocation. Without even thinking about it she gently stroked the hand still clasping her own.

"I am glad you have had someone in your life who has cared for you that much," she said hoarsely, her emotions perilously close to the surface. She shook herself, rallying once more. "If we are to see the gardens before the night falls completely we must move from here. The sun is setting and I believe we will only have time for a short tour as it is, but if we keep to the paths near the Palace all should be well."

For a while they wandered aimlessly along the well-kept pathways of the Palace gardens, Pasiphae pointing out things she thought might interest her son now and then. He seemed interested in almost everything she had to say but was apparently most fascinated by the statuary that dotted the garden – surrounding small fountains and pools or standing alone at the end of narrow, twisting pathways; statues that depicted Gods and Goddesses, heroes and strange, half-human creatures. Pasiphae found herself telling the boy the stories behind these figures as he turned to her in wide-eyed wonder. These were stories that he should know; should have learned from earliest childhood. Yet clearly he had never even heard of most of them. It was one more way that demonstrated just how far removed he had been from his family; just how far Aeson, curse his name, had taken the boy to ensure that he could not be found. Pasiphae almost felt she should be bitter at Jason's lack of knowledge and yet standing here beside her son telling him these stories and seeing his wonderfully childlike reaction to them, she found she could not be bitter at all; she could only marvel at the fact that she was being granted the gift of witnessing his introduction to her world; of telling him the stories she would have told him in childhood and having him react in much the same way she imagined he would have as a child; of seeing not hostility, anger or fear in his eyes but fascination – wonder.

As they sat down together on a bench at the end of one of the pathways near a statue of the Priestess Hero holding up her lamp the Queen wondered briefly how, in this moment of tranquillity and peace between them, Jason would react to her placing an arm around him and drawing him close. It was a thought that she quickly dismissed deciding that it was far too soon for that sort of action – and yet her unruly heart yearned for that level of closeness between them. Would it ever come? Would being allowed to love this boy ever stop being so hard? For the first time in many years Pasiphae suddenly wished she was blessed with the Oracle's gift of foresight so that she might know what the future held. She sighed softly.

Jason had been staring at the statue but now he turned towards his mother quizzically.

"Is everything alright?" he asked quietly.

"Of course," Pasiphae responded quickly. "I was merely… thinking. It does not matter."

Silence spread between them again as conversation lapsed; a heavy and awkward thing. Gradually Pasiphae became aware that Jason had edged a little closer until his hip was almost touching hers and the light and airy fabric of her dress whispered across the skin of his arm as it caught in the early evening breeze. She turned to face her son slowly and found him watching her with hesitant eyes and that shy smile she was rapidly coming to know and growing to love. Caught watching her Jason quickly looked away, flushing slightly, apparently worried that it would be construed as rudeness. Pasiphae's eyes softened gently at the sight and she reached out her hand slowly to take her son's once more.

"Tell me," she said nodding towards the statue, "do you know her story?"

"Probably not," Jason admitted. "I'm not entirely sure who she is."

"It is a tragic story," Pasiphae murmured. "A story of lost love. Her name was Hero and she was a virgin priestess of Aphrodite from Sestos. She lived alone in a tower by the sea and dedicated her life to the worship of Aphrodite, appeasing the Goddess with her sacrifices rather than engaging in those pleasures that Aphrodite is more normally associated with." Pasiphae paused and looked at Jason again, noting the way he was watching her with rapt attention. "Hero was reputed to be very beautiful – although I have yet to hear a love story that features an ugly woman. Nevertheless she was chaste and good and many men fell in love with her delicate charms, but Hero would have none. Sestos held a festival in honour of both Aphrodite and Adonis; a public holiday attended by people from as far away as Thessaly, Lebanon and Cyprus as well as Phrygia itself. In attendance was a young man named Leander from Abydos. Abydos was the city which stood on the far side of the Hellespont. Leander fell in love with Hero the instant he saw her… and his feelings were reciprocated. He persuaded the priestess that she was not honouring Aphrodite in the way that the Goddess desired and that Aphrodite would better pleased by her engaging in acts of carnal pleasure."

Jason coloured slightly at her story and Pasiphae found that she couldn't help the affectionate smile that sprang to her lips at his apparent abashment. It was endearing, she decided, that her son was not yet quite as worldly as she would have expected him to be.

"Hero told Leander that her parents would not allow her to be married to a foreigner so they entered into a secret arrangement. Every evening Leander would swim across the Hellespont guided by a lantern that Hero, standing in the high seaward window of her tower, would hold aloft and every morning, just before the dawn broke, he would swim back across the channel to Abydos. So Hero lived a secret life: by day a virginal maiden and by night a wife. The summer weather was fair and Leander was young and strong. He found no difficulty in his nightly swims. As the seasons changed, however, the anemoi contended over the Hellespont. Eurus fought Zephyrus and Boreas contended with Notus."

"They're the spirits of the winds?" Jason asked tentatively, remembering what his friends had told him of the anemoi two months previously. "Eurus is the east wind, Zephyrus the west, Boreas the north wind and Notus the south… is that right?"

"Indeed it is," Pasiphae answered, momentarily gratified that Jason at least appeared to know _something_ of their beliefs. "As they fought the sea grew rough and the waves crashed wildly against the shore. In spite of the tempest Hero lit her lantern to draw Leander to her side. Leander was determined to prove his love to Hero and resolved to make his nightly visit to her even in the midst of a storm. As he swam the waves grew higher and tossed him from side to side. A sudden gust blew out Hero's lantern and plunged into darkness Leander became lost and perished beneath the waves. By the next morn the anemoi had once again abated and ceased their conflict for a time. From the window of her tower Hero espied Leander's body lying broken at the foot of the cliffs and, overcome with sorrow, she threw herself from the casement to be dashed on the rocks below – joining her beloved in death."

Jason raised one eyebrow and looked at his mother.

"Seems a bit of a silly way to prove that you love someone," he said. "I mean risking his life like that just so she'd know he still cared? It was a bit mad."

"A little like signing up for a Pankration with no experience or understanding of what the competition entails you mean?" Pasiphae asked with an amused look.

"That was different," Jason objected. "I was trying to win the prize money… besides what makes you think I didn't know what I was doing?"

Pasiphae gave him an ironic look.

"You were attempting to gain the attention and affection of Ariadne," she stated with more than a hint of amusement. "After all there is nothing that says "I love you" to a girl like shedding blood and getting yourself beaten to a pulp for her. The prize money would have been a secondary consideration at best. As for knowing what you were doing? I think it was fairly obvious from your first round match that you had no real experience and were simply relying on your natural talents and dumb luck to get you through." Pasiphae hesitated for a moment. "You were amazing to watch though," she admitted. "I have never seen anyone move like you did in the arena."

Jason looked down awkwardly, clearly unsure of how to respond. Pasiphae watched him pensively for a moment, inwardly cringing at her own insensitivity. She had not meant to make him feel uncomfortable; had not meant to inadvertently ruin what had seemed to be a genuine moment of connection between them by pushing him too hard. With a scarcely audible sigh she looked away again.

Through the growing dusk she could see the trees of the orchard which provided fruit for the Palace kitchen. Most of the trees were bare of their produce now having been stripped throughout the summer and autumn to feed the appetites of the Royal Family. As winter continued the fruit which graced the tables of the King and his family would be brought into the city from distant climes, transported by boat or cart over vast distances. To Pasiphae's discerning palate, however, the fruit obtained in such a way would never taste as succulent as that which was grown in the Palace's own grounds. One tree still hung heavily with fruit amidst all its bare companions. It was an apple tree, planted by Minos in years gone by to satisfy his wife's sweet tooth and desire for the freshest of fruit even in the early winter, and it always provided the last home-grown fruit of the year.

Pasiphae stared at it longingly, unconsciously licking her lips delicately. The apples looked so ripe and fresh that she could almost taste the sweet juice and feel the crunch of the skin and the solid flesh beneath her teeth. It was unlikely that the fruit of this particular tree would be found on the supper table tonight. The apples themselves were best eaten straight from the tree and would usually be picked by their cultivators and placed in the baskets of fruit that habitually graced the royal chambers just in case the occupants desired a snack in between meals. She could of course find a gardener or another servant and request that they brought one of the obviously ripe apples to her here and now and yet that would mean leaving the company of the young man at her side. The Queen swallowed down her desire with some regret.

"Do you like them?" Jason's voice startled her again.

The young man had followed her gaze to the orchard and had blatantly seen her desire for the fruit.

"I have always loved apples," Pasiphae murmured softly.

"Me too," Jason answered pushing himself up from the bench and shooting her a grin that was pure mischief.

Pasiphae blinked in surprise as he walked away from her, moving towards the orderly row of trees. Near the apple tree he stopped and, transferring both crutches under his right arm to give himself balance, reached up and plucked a ripe apple from a heavily laden branch. Tucking the bottom hem of his tunic up into his belt to form a makeshift pouch and dropping his pilfered apple inside it, he reached up and repeated the procedure with a second piece of fruit. Then he turned and made his way back to where his mother still sat watching him and dropped one of the apples into her lap as he came level, before dropping down onto the bench beside her and taking a large bite out of the second crisp fruit. Pasiphae carefully lifted the apple up and looked at it, swallowing hard.

"Thank you," she said gently. "Although I do not think that the gardeners would be happy at you helping yourself to the fruit from the tree."

Jason chuckled lightly.

"What they don't know can't hurt them," he answered with a bright smile.

"You realise of course that we could simply have summoned a servant?" Pasiphae asked, turning the apple over delicately within her hands. Part of her wanted to preserve the fruit – and with it the moment – forever.

"Yes," Jason admitted, "but then you would have had to go away to find a servant… besides it was more fun this way."

The Queen could not stop the way her lips quirked into a smile.

"Thank you," she said again. "It was thoughtful of you."

She took a bite, relishing the familiar sweet yet sharp flavour that rolled around on her tongue and feeling an unfamiliar warm glow somewhere deep inside her chest. Was this what it would feel like to be Jason's mother all the time?

"It was nothing," Jason responded, taking a bite of his own fruit with obvious pleasure.

Once again they lapsed into silence as they both ate, but it was a far more comfortable silence now as each of them lost themselves in their own thoughts. Presently Jason looked at his mother again.

"Pasiphae?" he asked hesitantly. "Is there a bathhouse somewhere within the Palace?"

Pasiphae frowned.

"Why do you ask?" she responded far more sharply than she meant. "The servants have been tasked to provide you with proper washing facilities within your chambers. They have been instructed to provide you with a bath at any time you desire it. Have they been remiss in their duties?" Her frown deepened, mind already turning towards remonstrating with the servants and punishing any of them who had been lax in seeing to her son's comfort.

Jason looked slightly horrified.

"No," he answered quickly. "No. They've been great. Really. It's just that I was told by the doctor that once I was back to using crutches I should start trying to gently exercise my knee… and a few years ago now I did something to my shoulder… and afterwards the doctor told me that swimming would strengthen it and I've always liked to swim… it's always been something I've enjoyed… so I was hoping that you had a bathhouse here with a pool."

Pasiphae tried to work her way through his somewhat garbled explanation, relieved that the servants had apparently been following her instructions and treating the young man with respect.

"This is something you would enjoy?" she tried to clarify.

"Yeah," Jason answered. "When I was little my… Aeson's friend Mac took me down to the beach. I couldn't have been more than four or five. Anyway he decided that I needed to learn to swim properly so he threw me into the water. At first I just swallowed water and thrashed about until he dragged me back out but eventually I got the hang of it. My… Aeson sat on the beach and laughed. It was a good day… the last one I really remember us having before _he_ left. I can't really remember what he looked like but I can remember the sound of his laughter. Mac used to talk about that day sometimes when he came to see me. I've liked swimming ever since really. I suppose it was because it always brought back good memories."

Pasiphae looked into the distance.

"I have never been especially fond of swimming," she ventured. "Although my brothers were. As a princess growing up in Colchis swimming in the sea was not permitted. As a girl I loved to ride though. I loved the freedom that it gave me."

"I can understand that," Jason said softly. "I'd never really ridden before I came to Atlantis but I can see the attraction. I can see why it made you feel free."

"There is a bathhouse in the Palace," Pasiphae acknowledged. "If this is something that would truly bring you pleasure and might benefit your recovery then it is something that can be arranged. Time is running short before your meeting with Anaxandros and you still have things that you must learn. Once our lessons are concluded in the morning, however, I will show you the bathhouse. Then at least you might approach the afternoon session with a clear mind."

"Thank you," Jason responded with a smile. Without warning his stomach rumbled loudly in spite of the apple he had just finished. "Sorry," he said looking at his mother apologetically.

"You are hungry," Pasiphae stated with an amused look.

"A bit," Jason answered. "I haven't had much appetite for the last few days and because we had breakfast late the meeting went straight through lunch without stopping… I don't think some of the advisors were particularly impressed."

"I can imagine," Pasiphae said with heavy irony. "They are almost as attached to their bellies as they are to their positions and titles. Tell me, did you eat much breakfast?"

"Not really. I tend to lose my appetite when I'm upset or nervous. Not that I've got a massive appetite in the first place to be honest… Hercules is always nagging me about it. He doesn't think I eat enough."

"You have an appetite now though?"

"It's… it's been a better day than I was expecting," Jason said honestly. "And yes I suppose I am pretty hungry now."

"Then it is a good job that supper is nearly upon us," the Queen replied. "Come we will go together. The King will have sent a servant for your friends by now."

Pushing herself up from the seat Pasiphae led the way back into the Palace, tailoring her pace to suit the fact that her son was a little slower than expected while using crutches. At the door she paused and turned to him.

"I am glad to have had this time with you," she murmured, raising one soft hand to the side of his face, half expecting Jason to pull away.

"Me too," Jason answered. "I… it's been nice. Thank you."

For a moment the Queen though he might say more but with a smile Jason began to move on.

"Yes," she murmured. "Perhaps we could spend a little time in one another's company like this again."

Without waiting for a response she moved off again, heading for the small dining room with Jason in tow. On arrival she discovered that they were the last ones there, although they were far from late. As they entered Minos turned to her with an affectionate smile even as Jason's friends both looked at him with questioning expressions. Pasiphae smiled regally, allowing the mask of the queen to slip back into place. As they moved around to their allotted places she was surprised when Jason came behind her and awkwardly pulled out her chair. It was gentlemanly behaviour that she was not expecting – especially given the fact that he was already hampered by the use of crutches – and she couldn't help the gentle smile that graced her lips in response.

"Thank you," she murmured.

As with the evening before the dishes were offered in turn to the King first, followed by the Queen and the rest of the table. As the first dish was served Jason leant towards his mother, looking at her with imploring eyes.

"What is it?" he whispered, nodding towards the dish in the servant's hands.

Pasiphae smiled gently.

"Eels with feta and almonds," she answered equally quietly. "It is one of the King's favourite dishes. Eel is a delicacy beyond the resources of most men but I have to admit that that particular combination is not one that _I_ favour," she added noticing her son's slightly horrified look at the thought of the combination. "If you do not wish to experience it I would not blame you… and Minos would only be too grateful to eat your portion as well as his own."

Jason smiled.

"Perhaps I'll pass on that one then," he murmured.

Pasiphae smiled. This evening had been far more pleasant so far than she had been anticipating. With a satisfied hum she settled back to enjoy the company of those around her, feeling for the first time that she might actually be making progress with her son.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Once again I have to say thank you, thank you, thank you for the lovely comments! I'm sorry this chapter is a little late - unfortunately real life has intruded somewhat in the last couple of weeks.
> 
> This chapter does contain brief references to past self-harm. I am aware that some people might find that to be a trigger. If that's the case, or if you are likely to be offended by such things, please skip ahead to the second scene...
> 
> I know that there are still some of you out there reading this story (and believe me I am unbelievably grateful for that!). If you enjoy the chapter please just drop me a few lines to let me know! I promise I don't bite... :-)

The evening air was crisp and cool as Pasiphae sat in the window of the family sitting room overlooking the gardens with a faint breeze catching at her dress and her thoughts wandering distant pathways. Today had been a good day, she decided. Jason had been receptive to her tuition and for once had managed to keep his attention where it should be: on his lessons. She smiled softly to herself. Walking with him in the garden yesterday evening had been a treat that she had scarcely dared to imagine would ever happen and seemed to have worked wonders for their levels of comfort around one another. Both she and Jason had clearly felt much more at ease with one another today and Pasiphae found herself surprisingly happy as a result.

She had fulfilled her promise and shown him the bathhouse shortly before the midday meal and had half expected him to turn up to their afternoon session with his hair still dripping given how keen he had seemed to be. In actual fact he had appeared to be completely dry and as a result the Queen had been a little unsure as to whether Jason had taken advantage of the facilities yet or not. Not that it mattered either way, she told herself. He had been eager enough to learn and had not allowed his mind to wander – as she had noticed over the last couple of days it was prone to do.

They had broken the afternoon lesson up into two sections to allow for a brief visit from Mnesus, the Chief Physician. Even that had produced a good result. The doctor had been pleased with his patient's adherence to instructions and progress and had agreed to allow Jason to do without crutches once more, albeit with strict instructions to take things easily and not overdo it. Once he had gone a short session on the etiquette involved in the meeting of two sovereign kings had preceded a very pleasant supper taken in the small dining room. Sooner or later Pasiphae knew she would have to think about introducing her son to the larger banqueting chamber but in spite of the apparent progress they were making she couldn't help feeling that that would be a step too far this soon. Do not push too hard had almost become a mantra over the past few days; do not expect too much too soon. Jason was doing remarkably well really given how short a time he had had to adjust. He was beginning to relax more and more amongst the family (amongst _his_ family, she reminded herself) and his apparently sunny nature and naturally optimistic personality was beginning to reassert itself.

If there was one thing that Pasiphae had not considered when she had been planning her moves to bring Jason here to her side, it was that she might actually find him charming. She had expected him to be an uncultured and ill-educated peasant with no understanding of social graces and little knowledge of proper behaviour, in desperate need of the education she could provide. Even now she acknowledged the fact that he did require some polish – did still need a few of his rougher edges smoothing away – but on the whole she had been pleasantly surprised. Where she had expected him to be brash and to possess the arrogance of youth he was actually slightly shy and more naturally reserved than she would have believed. He was fairly well spoken (which told its own tale about his prior education and social status she felt) and once he was persuaded to relax enough to converse was both refreshingly direct and sweetly earnest. He had a sharp wit too as his mother had discovered to her cost and bemusement. She wasn't sure she would ever get used to being teased and hadn't failed to notice the way Minos' lips had twitched with amusement or the way he had been forced to look away to hide a grin as she had responded with a certain amount of shock to a particularly audacious quip, and was horribly afraid that her expression had been one of stupefaction.

Supper had concluded in much the same agreeable manner it had begun in. Afterwards Jason had disappeared off with his friends, although he had responded positively to his mother's suggestion that he might like to join the family in one of the private sitting rooms later. Pasiphae had been feeling particularly benevolent as a result of the pleasant day she had experienced and had even extended the invitation to his two friends without any prompting or unsubtle hints from either her husband or her son. Even Ariadne had seemed benign towards the idea of spending time with her father and stepmother, which in itself was more than a little unusual. Over the past few years the girl had increasingly retreated to her quarters or to the Temple as soon as supper was over on days when there was no formal meal to attend. It was a conscious attempt to avoid having to spend any significant time with herself the Queen felt. Not that she was particularly bothered by it to be completely honest. She despised Ariadne's apparently excessive piety and found the girl to be more than a little sanctimonious and priggish. Of course Ariadne had all too often being trying to keep out of the way of Heptarian as well. They had never been close and she had been more than a little obvious in her rejection of his advances in spite of her father's promotion of the match.

For a moment Pasiphae felt a fleeting little pang at the thought of Heptarian. In spite of his faults he _had_ still been her nephew after all and had lived with her from childhood. For a short time the Queen had attempted to use both her nephew and her stepdaughter to fill the Jason sized hole in her heart. It had not worked of course. Ariadne had resisted every effort on the part of her stepmother to form a closer bond and even as a child Heptarian had not possessed a particularly loveable character. You are being unfair, she thought. No matter what her nephew's personality had been he would never have been able to fill the gap left by the loss of her only child and it had been wrong of her to even try. In the end it had been easier to close her heart off; to pretend that her son had never existed; to use her thirst for power and position to fill any gaps Jason might have left behind.

Ariadne's acquiescence to the suggestion that they should all repair to the family room later that evening had surprised and delighted Minos given how little time he had truly managed to have with his beloved daughter over the past few years. He saw it as a positive step towards reconciliation between his wife and daughter. Over the past couple of months the two women had declared an uneasy truce and were no longer engaged in open warfare with one another but were still far from friendly. Pasiphae somewhat cynically thought that Ariadne's decision to join them tonight probably had more to do with the girl's desire to spend more time with her beloved Jason than any wish to reconcile with her stepmother but as it would suit her purposes for the future to allow the relationship between the two young people to develop she chose not to mention anything.

Besides, having Jason here and willing to spend time with her was still a treat and one which the Queen was more than happy to take full advantage of. She was well aware of the fact that he might not choose to stay once the Amphigeneian siege was over and while that thought hurt more than she was willing to acknowledge she was also well aware that Minos had decided that it would be down to Jason to make his own mind up about where his future lay. Knowing, therefore, that their time together might be brief Pasiphae intended to take full advantage of his presence now and to use every opportunity to try to build a bond and persuade him to stay. With her mind drifting back over her thoroughly agreeable day once again, she smiled softly to herself once more.

From the other side of the room Minos watched his wife without her being aware of his presence. He had entered the family sitting room some time earlier and sat down in his favourite seat. Pasiphae had plainly been lost in deep thought and had not even noticed his arrival. Minos smiled gently. It was rare to see Pasiphae so unguarded or as happy as she seemed to be in this moment. She seemed softer somehow; more gentle; more vulnerable. Jason's presence in their lives was clearly bringing out a side to the Queen rarely seen by anyone either inside or outside the family; her more maternal side, buried deep within her for so many years, coming to the fore once more. Gods but she was beautiful in this moment. Minos was willing to admit to himself that theirs had not been a marriage born of passion. While it was true that he did indeed love his complicated wife deeply he had married her to cement his political position; to give his claims to the throne a little more legitimacy. And what a wife she had been! Fiercely intelligent, ruthless, politically astute and utterly captivating when she chose, no one could claim that life with Pasiphae was ever boring. True his affection for her had been a slow burning affair at first far removed from the deep seated passion he had felt for his first wife. His love for Ariadne and Therus' mother had been a flame that burned brightly and hot and was gone all too soon with her untimely death bringing their daughter into the world. She had been beautiful and delicate and so like Ariadne that his heart couldn't help leaping whenever he looked at his daughter knowing that as long as she was here his late wife would never be completely lost to him. His love for Pasiphae was slower to develop; a love born of comfort and familiarity rather than white hot desire but was no less deep for it. She was charming and graceful; an elegant consort; a dutiful Queen and a consummate politician.

It had been a small sorrow that their union had not been blessed by the gift of children; brothers and sisters for his own two; a child to lessen a little of his wife's grief at the loss of her firstborn. Now he understood it of course. From what he had learned the other night Pasiphae had not been destined to be a mother. The Gods had had to intervene directly to give Jason to her – any more children were simply not meant to be. Over the years as his own children had grown and Pasiphae had chosen to lock her memories of her son away from the view of the world it had ceased even to be a consideration for them. Certainly it was not something that had ever led Minos to reproach his wife over – although he was well aware that there were many men who would.

As the King contemplated his wife, a soft smile still gracing his lips, a familiar light fragrance touched his nostrils. His smile widened and he turned to face his newly arriving daughter.

"Ariadne," he greeted her warmly.

"Father," Ariadne responded, coming forwards with her hands outstretched in greeting.

She looked around the room thoughtfully, noting the reverie which seemed to envelope her stepmother, before her eyes alighted on an old Petteia board, scarred through many years of use, its stones mismatched as they had been lost by childish hands and replaced by whatever said child could find. The Princess smiled a little sadly suddenly assaulted by the memory of watching her father and brother playing with this very board many times as she grew, the young Prince Therus learning strategy even as he played. She herself had learned to play – taught by Therus in one of his more benevolent moods towards his small sister – although it was hardly thought to be a suitable game for a girl. There were other, more opulent versions of the game within the Palace but this was the one that the King had always treasured – made for him as a present by his son when the child had been barely old enough to hold the knife that had carved the not quite straight (certainly nowhere near as straight as they should be) lines into the surface of the piece of wood. Ariadne had spent many hours in this room watching her father contesting with Therus or Heptarian over this board, or watching the two boys playing against each other and perhaps being invited to take her own part if no-one was watching. The board had disappeared from the family rooms when Therus had vanished from their lives; branded a traitor and believed dead. Ariadne had always believed that her father had destroyed it in his grief and anger – as he had done with most of his son's belongings.

Minos followed her gaze and looked at her a little sheepishly.

"I had thought that perhaps the Jason might like to learn to play," he said quietly. "The board is old but it should be used again."

Ariadne smiled at her father.

"I am sure that he will be willing," she answered. "In the meantime perhaps you and I might enjoy a game?"

The King gestured to the seat opposite himself and began to lay out the pieces on the board with a smile for his daughter as he did so.

"We have not spent much time with one another of late," he observed.

"You have been busy with affairs of state Father," Ariadne answered, "and I have my own duties to attend to both here and at the Temple."

"Nevertheless I should make time to spend with you," Minos stated. "There has been so much loss in our lives. We should make the most of the time we do have together. I have missed spending evenings here with you."

Ariadne felt a little stab of guilt at his confession. She had often avoided evenings spent in the company of her family – making up excuses so that her presence would go unremarked upon – so that she could spend as little time as possible with both Pasiphae and Heptarian. It had not occurred to her that the lack of her presence might have hurt her father in any way.

"I shall endeavour to ensure that my duties are concluded before supper in the future," she replied. "Then we might spend more time with one another when your own affairs allow."

"I would very much like that," Minos said. "You are the most precious thing to me in the world. I do not say it enough."

Ariadne smiled.

"I would like that too," she said.

From her seat in the window Pasiphae turned to watch her husband and stepdaughter placidly. Her mood might best be described as benevolent. A soft noise in the doorway made her look up in time to see her son's younger friend, a small bag tucked under his arm, standing anxiously on the threshold, clearly uncertain of his welcome despite the invitation that the Queen had extended to him earlier. He was propelled rapidly into the room by his larger friend; the bulky man holding his younger companion's arm in a firm grip, eliciting a startled yelp and annoyed look from the lad. Pasiphae looked beyond them with some confusion, worried at the fact that these two appeared to have arrived alone.

Ariadne, ever the good hostess, rose to her feet and hurried over to greet the two.

"Is Jason not with you?" she asked.

"He should be joining us shortly Your Highness," Pythagoras answered respectfully. "He took a little longer in the bathhouse than we were expecting."

Pasiphae let out the soft breath she did not even know she was holding.

Hercules snorted.

"He was trying to do his impression of a mermaid," he muttered, although no-one could miss the affection in his tone.

Pythagoras stepped forwards suddenly, his attention caught by the game in front of the King.

"Is that Petteia?" he breathed. Then he seemed to realise just who he was addressing and stammered out an apology, blushing to the tips of his ears.

Minos waved away the young man's contrite words with a magnanimous gesture.

"You play?" he asked.

"Yes My Lord," the young genius answered. "Although it has been many years since I last had a game. It was something I very much enjoyed playing with our local doctor on Samos. I have never had a board of my own though and rarely found anyone who would be willing to play with me. Jason and I usually play Tilia in the evenings but I will admit that I would love the opportunity to play Petteia again."

"Then perhaps you would care to test your skills," Minos said gesturing towards the seat opposite him.

It had in no way been voiced as a question and the King clearly expected acquiescence to his wishes without comment. Pythagoras gulped and sat down gingerly, almost afraid of damaging the furniture and bringing down some unimaginable punishment onto their heads just by sitting on it in the wrong manner.

Minos began to lay out the pieces once again. He hardly thought that this peasant boy would provide much of a challenge but it would help pass the time. Ariadne, the King noticed, had moved towards Hercules and had engaged the man in animated conversation, taking a seat on one of the couches and indicating that her companion should do the same, although what she was finding to talk about was beyond her father.

By the time Jason arrived in the doorway a few minutes later, Minos and Pythagoras were deeply engrossed in their game. He paused, leaning against the door frame and taking in the scene in front of him with no small amount of surprise. The idea of seeing the Royal Family relaxing away from the public gaze was still frighteningly new and alien, so to see his two closest friends – men who should never have moved in the same circles as the King and Queen under normal circumstances – sitting and interacting with them was more than a little disconcerting.

 _They're doing it for you_ , a voice that sounded suspiciously like his former foster mother Chloe sounded in the back of his mind. _They're doing it because they love you_.

For a moment Jason wondered why it was that the voice of reason in his head always sounded like Chloe. He supposed that it was because that particular voice had pleasant associations for him. Although to be honest what the voice sounded like wasn't really all that important. It was what it had said – what he had thought – that was. The truth be told he still wasn't entirely sure that he was worthy of the love and trust that his friends seemed to place in him. And now the King and Queen seemed to be extending their own trust; to be offering him a warm welcome and to genuinely _want_ him to be here. For a young man who had grown up feeling isolated from those around him – who had never quite fit in anywhere – it was all more than a little overwhelming.

Hoping to evade notice for as long as possible to give himself chance to collect his own thoughts, Jason limped into the room as quietly as he could, skirting the edge until he came to a seat near the window and gently curled up into it. For a time he sat quietly, watching the other occupants of the room with thoughtful eyes and a soft smile, his wrist cuffs and a small bone comb discarded and temporarily forgotten in his lap.

In the far corner Hercules was gesticulating wildly, the way he did when he was telling one of his tall tales, while Ariadne's eyes seemed to get wider with each second. Jason just hoped that the story the burly wrestler was telling was suitable for its audience. He would hate to have to explain to Minos why Hercules was telling off colour stories or bawdy jokes to the Princess.

Across the room from them Pythagoras made a move on the game board that made the King frown. Jason wasn't entirely sure which of them was winning in their game or indeed whether Pythagoras had just made a good move or not – although the sour expression that graced Minos' face indicated that it was. Both participants seemed completely caught up in their activity, concentrating deeply.

The feeling of being watched crept up on Jason and he turned to find Pasiphae watching him calmly. He shifted uncomfortably, feeling the inexplicable urge to fidget.

"Did you enjoy your swim?" the Queen asked softly, taking in the damp dark curls.

"Yes. Thank you." Jason answered.

"I am glad," Pasiphae answered. She turned her attention back to the scroll she had previously discarded on a small table next to her, knowing that its contents must be analysed and responded to before this evening was over.

Jason watched her quietly for a few minutes before turning his attention to putting his wrist cuffs back where they belonged. As he began to curl the first one around his wrist a shadow fell across him, making him look up in wide-eyed surprise.

"Let me help you with that," Ariadne said gently, sitting herself down at the opposite end of the window seat and taking his wrist in her delicate hands.

Jason glanced over at the King with a little concern, although he reasoned that with so many people present Minos could hardly believe that either he or Ariadne was acting improperly. Besides which surely Ariadne would know how to avoid any of the pitfalls which might indicate impropriety between them. He smiled at the girl and tried to relax.

Ariadne returned his smile with a bright one of her own before turning her attention to the task in hand, her fingers moving deftly and surely. She started to wrap the cuff she had taken from him around his wrist but suddenly halted and lifted his arm up to look at it better, examining the more delicate skin of his inner wrist carefully in the fading light. Jason froze, his eyes going wider than ever as he realised what exactly it was that the Princess was looking at.

"Ariadne?" Minos said suspiciously. "What are you doing?"

"I'm sorry," Ariadne said hurriedly, dropping Jason's arm as though it burned her. She didn't look towards her father though, focusing her sole attention on the young man ahead of her. "It was just… I wasn't expecting the scars. How did you get them? I thought that maybe they were defensive wounds but they're just too regular."

Jason looked down at his wrists; looked at the half dozen or so faint parallel white lines that decorated the skin on the inside of each – the reason that he liked the fact that wrist cuffs were fashionable in this day and age. He sighed, brushing his fingers over the slightly raised edges and wishing that there was some way he could go back five minutes and avoid the necessity of having this conversation; wishing there was some way he could avoid having to bare a little more of his soul.

"They've almost faded away completely," he murmured to himself. "I keep thinking that one day I'll wake up and not be able to see them anymore."

"They are faint scars," Ariadne agreed. "I doubt I would have seen them but for the way the light was hitting your arm. How did you get them?"

Jason grimaced.

"Fifteen was a very bad year," he answered cryptically as though that explained everything.

And perhaps it did, Pasiphae realised looking around the room at her son's friends. The younger one appeared to be on the verge of tears while the older one looked ready to attack something or someone, glowering at the floor as though he did not dare to raise his head. They clearly understood the meaning behind Jason's words only too well.

"I do not understand," Ariadne protested.

Jason sighed again.

"They were self-inflicted," he admitted in a voice that was only a little above a whisper.

Pasiphae couldn't help but flinch, noticing even as she did the way that Ariadne recoiled with horror and Minos leant forwards. Only Jason's friends remained unmoving. But then Pasiphae believed they had already known what Jason was going to say.

"You wished to end your own life?" the Queen found herself demanding sharply, even as her mind reeled away from the hideous thought.

"No," Jason answered sharply. "No."

"Then why?" Pasiphae asked.

The young man sighed again but turned to face her fully.

"When I was fifteen some pretty unpleasant things happened," he said. "There was no-one around that I could turn to and to be honest I was pretty used to looking after myself by then anyway… to only relying on myself. Anyway I just wanted it to stop hurting… I just wanted it all to go away even if it was just for a little while… and I found that if I focussed on physical pain I could convince myself that nothing else was wrong. So I cut myself." He paused and looked down at his wrists again, starting the task of wrapping the cuff in place and hiding the marred skin from view, before looking back at his mother. "It didn't go on for long. Just a few weeks really. Then Aeson's friend Mac came back into my life. I mean he'd been in and out for years… ever since my father left… but he worked away for at least half of every year so I didn't see him all that much. Anyway he never asked why I did it… never pried… and I never volunteered to explain… but he made sure that it stopped. Made sure that I knew that it wasn't a healthy way of handling things. By that time I was pretty much at the point where I could cope anyway… and it never happened again. Now there are just the scars left."

Pasiphae nodded, temporarily unable to speak. The more she heard of her son's childhood the angrier she was towards her former husband. This was all Aeson's fault, she silently seethed. The pleasant mood from earlier seemed to have dissipated and a dark cloud hung over the room.

"Jason," Minos' voice drew everyone out of their individual dark thoughts and back to the present. Once he was sure he had his stepson's full attention the King hesitated, unsure how to proceed. "I am sure that your friends would agree with this wholeheartedly. I wish you to know that no matter what happens if you are _ever_ in that position again there will be someone that you can turn to."

Jason looked at the King searchingly and saw only honesty in the grave face.

"Thank you," he muttered, thoroughly embarrassed.

"Now," Minos continued, "have you ever had the opportunity to play Petteia?"

"No," Jason answered.

"It is a good game for learning strategy," Minos responded. "Come here and I will teach you." He looked with amusement at Pythagoras. "We will play against your friend who is too clever by half," he continued with good humour. "Let us see if between us we cannot beat him."

As Jason joined the King and his friend around the Petteia board, quickly becoming lost in a world of coloured stones and carefully planned moves, and Ariadne re-joined Hercules, restarting their conversation albeit in a more subdued manner than before, Pasiphae watched the room with sharp eyes. Her guts churned with the need to punish someone for causing her son pain or sorrow even if it was so many years ago. Deliberately she forced her mind away from that thought and towards the meeting that Jason had gone through with the small group of advisors yesterday. Minos had given her a full account after supper last night. The King had been impressed with his stepson's forbearance and patience in the face of direct provocation, and Pasiphae had to admit that she wholeheartedly agreed with him. That did not mean that she was not angry at those advisors who had dared to offer any impertinence to Jason. They would need to be carefully watched, she decided, already making plans to do just that. Then almost inevitably her mind was drawn back to her anger at her son's father. In her seat in the window while her family relaxed around her, Pasiphae began to plot her retribution.

* * *

The hazy winter sun did little to warm Jason as he waited near the royal stables. The position of the sun told him that noon was fast approaching – too fast as far as he was concerned. When he had agreed to stand at Minos' side supporting the King in his meeting with King Anaxandros he had really had no idea of what that would actually entail. Now the time for that meeting was nearly at hand and he was going to be required to ride out with the King where everyone might see him and declare his identity to the hostile monarch of an enemy state. A large part of Jason hated the thought that he might be seen and recognised – might lose his anonymity forever. Plus he was almost bound to do something wrong and embarrass Minos in front of Anaxandros. Somehow that thought upset him more than any other. The King was showing him so much trust and Jason was almost terrified that he would let the man down.

As a direct result of his own nerves the young man had eaten very little for breakfast this morning which, with hindsight, might have been a distinct mistake. As queasy as he felt he couldn't help wondering if eating something would have helped to settle his nerves. It probably didn't help that he'd arrived at the stables far too early as well, worried that he might get everything off on the wrong foot by being late. Now he had been hanging about for some time, sitting on a low wall to ease the ache that had begun to build in his knee and fretting anxiously about the forthcoming meeting.

At least he wouldn't embarrass anyone with how he looked, he decided. The tunics that had been provided for him in the trunk at the end of his bed might still feel a little strange – as though they belonged to someone else rather than to him – but they were at least suitable for meeting a King. He had selected the most formal one he could find for today's meeting: traditional Atlantian blue which, although it was still far less opulent than those usually worn by members of the royal household, had a narrow border of acanthus leaves picked out in silver thread. Really it felt far too grand a garment for the likes of him to be wearing but given the circumstances Jason had believed it was probably suitable. When he had woken up this morning he had found an unfamiliar breastplate and wrist braces on the table near the fire. Undoubtedly his mother had instructed that they be left there for him to wear and Jason had found himself complying without hesitation. Today was all about impressions after all and the clothes he chose to wear would help with the illusion that they were trying to create; the illusion that he was indeed a prince of Atlantis; that he was the son of the former King. Jason grimaced. The maddest thing of all was that the illusion was actually the truth.

The wrist braces were made of a far thicker leather and were much longer than the soft cuffs he customarily wore – reaching almost from wrist to elbow – and were deeply engraved with intricate knot work. They were beautiful rather than functional although Jason was under no illusions that they would stop a glancing sword blow with no trouble whatsoever. He had run his finger lightly over the carved designs as he had been thinking. They seemed more appropriate to the stylised combat of the arena than to the rough and tumble of a skirmish but he rather supposed that that was the point. Everything he had been told about the Greek way of warfare – about the warring states choosing champions to face one another in ritualistic combat – struck him as more of a gladiatorial challenge than anything else.

The breastplate in turn was beautifully designed and decorated, reflecting all the latest innovations in armour making. It fit better than his regular breastplate too – the older armour having been handed down an unknown number of times before it had finally reached Jason – and yet somehow it wasn't as comfortable as what he was used to, leaving him feeling awkward and ill at ease. Jason frowned. He supposed that his normal breastplate had felt unfamiliar and uncomfortable the first time he had put it on and yet he couldn't remember it doing so. With a sigh, trying hard not to fidget too much where he sat, he looked at the sun once more noting that it had scarcely moved position since the last time he had checked.

To be honest he could fall asleep quite easily sitting here. The strange dreams that had plagued him for days had been dispelled by the naiads, giving him two nights of undisturbed slumber, but last night they had returned with a vengeance. As a result he had woken up this morning feeling rather like he hadn't actually been to bed at all which was not a good thing given the importance of the day's meeting. He sighed again and closed his eyes, turning his face towards the sun.

From somewhere in the near distance the soft sound of voices and tramping feet began to intrude themselves on Jason's consciousness but he didn't move, wanting to preserve this moment of relative peace for as long as he could; using these last few moments of solitude to try to centre and calm himself; knowing that as soon as the King arrived he would have to be ready to slip into his role.

Minos had determined that they would ride out with a small retinue of advisors, servants and guards. Jason rather hoped that he could lose himself in the crowd; that the presence of one strange young man among so many others would not cause comment. Once they were beyond the city walls and nearing the hastily constructed pavilion they would stop and he and the King would continue on foot with a few guards. Minos had been quite firm about this and although he had told the advisors that it was for both his own comfort and safety – to allow him to make a hasty retreat to the walls if necessary – Jason was fairly certain that the real reason was to prevent _him_ from having to walk too far. He was still limping fairly heavily after all (even though he was sure it would get less with each day) although he was also fairly certain that he would be able to conceal it over a short distance.

"Jason," the King's voice startled the young brunette. He hadn't realised just how close the group had come and pushed himself to his feet in consternation, eyes snapping open.

Minos allowed his lips to curl into a faint smile at the sight of his stepson. This was good, he decided. Jason looked every bit a young prince dressed as he was and the King could not help the sudden burst of pride that he felt both at his wife's efforts in preparing the lad for this day in such a short space of time and in the speed with which Jason himself had learned. The boy already showed more promise than Minos had been expecting. He stepped forwards and placed a reassuring hand on Jason's shoulder.

"You are ready?" he asked.

"Yes My Lord," Jason responded quietly with as much certainty as he could muster.

"Then let us go and beard the lion in his den," the King proclaimed, turning towards the stables firmly.

The stables were cool and dark after the sunlit stable yard – hazy though that sunlight had been. Jason didn't say a word as he was led to a sleek, black horse, its mane and tail brushed to perfection, already tacked and saddled ready for him. For a moment he stopped and looked up at the beast. The horse was glorious, far more well-bred and well-kept than the tired, old creatures he had sometimes ridden from the hire stables when he and his friends had had call to travel some distance beyond Atlantis' walls. It had clearly been bred in the royal stables and for a moment he couldn't quite believe that it was meant for the likes of him to ride.

"Do you like him?" Minos' voice was very soft and very close behind his ear. "I did not think to ask if you could ride."

"He's stunning," Jason breathed. He turned to the King. "I have ridden," he added. "Not frequently but I do know how."

"That is… reassuring," Minos answered with the vaguest hint of amusement. He waited as his own bay horse was brought around to him. "If you would care to mount then we may begin."

Jason nodded but hesitated for a moment longer, trying to work out the logistics of getting up onto a horse with his knee not fully healed. Before anyone could comment (or even worse offer to help – that would be truly mortifying) he pushed himself up onto the back of the horse, trying to keep his expression as neutral as possible. Despite his best efforts, however, he could not avoid the pained grunt that escaped his lips as the still healing cracked ribs in his side pulled unpleasantly and for a moment he bent forwards, grasping the high pommel of the saddle as he tried to regain control. He looked up to find Minos watching him with a frown.

"You are in discomfort?" the King asked.

"No," Jason answered – unconvincingly if Minos' raised eyebrow were anything to go by. "Not really. I keep forgetting that I cracked some ribs when I fell. Most of the time I don't even notice… which I'm told is a good sign that they're healing well… but occasionally they pull a little and that hurts. I wasn't quite prepared for it when I got on that's all."

Minos favoured him with one last hard and sceptical look before mounting his own horse and turning it to head out through the doorway of the stable block. Jason waited until the King was clear of the exit before following. Pasiphae had made sure that he understood that etiquette demanded that the King be permitted to go first at all times. It was apparently a serious faux-pas to try to pull one's horse ahead of the King's mount. Not that Jason had had any intention of doing that anyway. As far as he was concerned the closer he could get to the back of the group the better it would be.

As Jason pulled the horse into the stable yard he realised that slipping to the back of the group might not be as hard as he had feared. The various advisors and servants selected to travel in the King's retinue were all flapping around Minos vying for his attention. They reminded Jason of moths fluttering around a flame, much to his amusement. He sat back in the saddle watching them with an open grin.

"It's pathetic really, isn't it?" a deep voice rumbled from behind him.

Jason turned to find Dion, mounted on his own steed, watching the goings on of the courtiers and servants with an ironic smile, his hands loosely holding his reigns and crossed easily across the saddle pommel.

"Do they know how ridiculous they look?" the young man asked the general softly, eyes dancing with amusement.

"They are courtiers. Nobles. I don't think it would ever even occur to them that anyone might find their behaviour amusing," Dion answered. "As far as they are concerned they're so far superior to everyone else that the rest of us should bow down in reverent wonder whenever they walk by. All any of them is really interested in is their own position. So they spend all their time jostling for position and trying to curry favour with the King… and stabbing each other in the back of course." He looked shrewdly at Jason. "There are one or two members of the court that can be trusted without question. Old Master Epeigeus is one such. He has been a member of the court for many years now and is utterly loyal to the crown. With all others it is perhaps best watch one's back so to speak."

"You are not a member of the nobility then?" Jason asked with some surprise. He had imagined that anyone who achieved any sort of rank within Atlantis would be automatically drawn from the upper levels of society.

"My father was a minor noble. One of the dozens of hangers on at court," Dion answered, "but my mother was the daughter of a merchant. My paternal grandfather arranged a marriage for his son that was on paper far beneath him purely because the family was impoverished and my mother brought with her a substantial dowry and the potential to inherit a great deal of wealth. As the younger son I was sent to the army when I was little more than a boy. I have spent half my life defending this country's borders; fighting and bleeding alongside men who are considered far beneath me socially. I understand the need for social boundaries of course – understand that they must be kept so that order might be maintained – but in battle it does not matter whether you are a noble or a commoner… you will still bleed and die just the same. That gaggle of fawning toadies have no real conception of honour or duty; have no idea that their actions are utterly ridiculous and for the large part completely unnecessary." He looked at Jason again. "I have spoken out of turn though. Forgive my candour. I am a soldier and I am used to speaking to other soldiers. I am sometimes a little blunt."

Jason smiled.

"It's fine," he said. "I prefer people to be straightforward anyway."

"I had the feeling you might," Dion responded. "Will you ride beside me?"

"Of course," Jason answered, more than a little relieved to be alongside someone he at least vaguely knew.

The journey through the city streets was undertaken at little more than a fast walk. Although Jason understood the need for restraint – the need to prevent panic amongst the populous that might be engendered by seeing the King galloping through the streets – part of him still chafed at the delay. The longer it took to get to the city gates the more chance he had of being noticed among the retinue. Not that he necessarily believed that anyone would actually recognise him but all it would take would be one misplaced rumour about the survival of the Queen's son and one observant citizen to take notice of his presence at Minos' side and put two and two together and the secret could be out. That was something that he was in no way ready to even contemplate – just the simple idea of having parents was enough to handle at the moment without the inevitable fuss that would accompany his open acceptance of their status and, as a result, his own.

There was something vaguely disturbing, he decided, about seeing the citizens of Atlantis – people he had rubbed shoulders with in the market on a regular basis – dropping to their knees as the royal party passed. The irony of the fact that not so long ago he had been with them and behaved in exactly the same way was not lost on him either. It had taken Jason some time after his arrival in the city to become used to the idea of bowing down before anyone. It had really taken the combined effort of both his friends to make him see the importance of genuflecting as the King passed by. He supposed it was because it was so far outside the realms of his experience in his former life. He had always been brought up to be fairly polite to everyone and to show respect to those who deserved it but the idea of dropping to his knees as someone walked or rode by simply because of their social status was still relatively alien.

As they rode down another street his mind began to wander even further and his horse, sensing its rider's inattention, began to speed up slightly, trying to push its way past the mounts of the other members of the party to become closer to its stable mate at the head of the group.

"Here watch out!" a loud and harsh voice pulled Jason out of his reverie just before his horse barrelled in to a stand of fine pottery.

Swearing he hauled back on the reigns, stopping the beast altogether, and began to mumble apologies to the affronted stall holder, blushing deeply. From the corner of his eye he could see that Minos had turned back towards him and was now heading purposefully in his direction, his face set into a hard expression, looking more aloof and regal than ever. Jason gulped slightly. The last thing he wanted to do today was to either draw attention to himself or attract royal displeasure – particularly in a public place.

"It was my fault," a deep voice intoned. "Please accept my most humble apologies. My mount was startled and barged into this young man's horse, causing him to regrettably stumble towards your stall. As no harm was done to either party, however, I would hope that you would be able to look past this incident.

Jason turned with surprise to see Dion staring at the stallholder with a serious but indecipherable expression. The merchant licked his lips and turned slightly, blanching as he saw the King riding back towards them.

"Of course," he muttered.

"Good," Dion responded. "I was sure that would be the case." He turned to Jason and winked, out of sight of the stallholder. "Come," he said. "We must not keep the King waiting. I am sure that those you serve would not be pleased at such a result."

"Thank you," Jason murmured as they began to ride away again. "You didn't have to do that."

"Perhaps not," Dion conceded, "but if the King's wishes are to be fulfilled and your identity is to be kept a secret for the time being then it was better for that man to believe that you were on the staff of one of these fawning fools." He nodded towards the main body of the royal retinue. "It would not have done to draw His Majesty down on yourself and would only have made the general population wonder at your identity."

Minos, Jason noticed, had stopped now that he had seen they were moving to re-join the group. As they drew near he fixed Jason with a hard stare, one eyebrow raised imperiously.

"Forgive me My Lord," Dion murmured quietly before the King could speak, his voice carrying no further than the ears of the King and his stepson. "My horse was startled by a small creature running across his path. His shoulder hit the Prince's mount and caused him to stumble towards a stall. It was an unfortunate accident, nothing more. I beg your indulgence at the delay."

"Indeed?" Minos answered disbelievingly. "I have never known any horse you were riding to behave in such a manner Dion."

"He is young Your Majesty," Dion responded, "and somewhat enthusiastic… highly strung at times."

"Are we still talking about your horse General?" Minos asked with amusement, shooting a knowing glance at Jason.

The young man's eyes widened at the unexpected teasing note apparent in Minos' tone. He flushed again.

"Try to keep your mind on the task at hand," the King admonished quietly.

"Yes My Lord," Jason muttered.

"I think perhaps it would be best if both you and General Dion rode a little closer to the front of the group as well," Minos continued. "I do not ask you to ride at my side," he added noting Jason's almost horrified look. "That might bring too much unwanted attention at this present moment. I do believe, however, that it would be more appropriate for you to be in the centre of the party rather than lagging behind at the back and causing havoc with unsuspecting traders."

"Of course Your Majesty," Dion answered with a completely straight face.

Minos nodded and moved to return to his rightful place at the head of the group.

"Do not worry," the general murmured to the young man at his side. "If anyone was interested enough to be watching it would simply have looked as though the King was admonishing a soldier and an aide."

Jason nodded and smiled slightly. Dion, he was rapidly deciding, was a good ally to have.

Before long the party reached the outer walls of Atlantis and passed through the Telapius Gate. The King moved his horse into a trot, picking up speed now they were away from the crowded streets of the city and forcing those in his retinue to do the same. By the time they had crossed half of the ground towards the place where the horses and most of the retinue were to be left, Jason had discovered just how uncomfortable riding with cracked ribs could be. Every jolt made his side ache a little more and he forced himself to sit upright, knowing that he could not afford to show any weakness to the hostile eyes that might be watching, the knuckles of one hand becoming white where he gripped the saddle pommel so hard to try to ground the pain and his arm pressed tightly into his side. As the pavilion grew ever closer and the point where they were to start walking came into view Jason couldn't restrain the sigh of relief that escaped him.

Finally Minos called a halt and dismounted. Jason scrambled out of the saddle in a movement that was really little more than a controlled fall and certainly had little grace to recommend it. Not that he cared right at that moment. For now it was enough to be back on his own feet on the ground. He took a couple of deep breaths and held onto the saddle of his horse for a moment, taking a second to make sure he was balanced. He could feel the King's eyes on him and pushed back from the horse with more outward confidence than he inwardly felt, turning to walk towards Minos and drawing deeply on his reserves to help him mask the limp caused by his injured knee.

Minos nodded quietly to himself in approval. It was impressive, he decided, the way that his stepson could pull himself together when the situation demanded it. He knew that the boy was still experiencing some pain from his injured leg and that riding at anything more than a slow walk with damaged ribs would cause a great deal of discomfort, but no-one would be able to tell from the way the lad was moving right now. He had hoped that that would be the case of course and actually Jason was even better than he had expected at masking how he must inevitably be feeling. Minos sighed silently. He would wish to spare the lad any suffering if at all possible but the speed of their ride had been unfortunately necessary. Anaxandros would have taken any delay as a slight and used it against him.

"It is a short walk to the pavilion where we will meet Anaxandros," he murmured as Jason drew level. "We will be unarmed… as will the Aphigeneian retinue. Be on your guard however. I do not believe that Anaxandros will try anything so blatant as to attack us under a flag of truce but we must be prepared for treachery. Remember that although the pavilion is halfway between their lines and our city walls it will be easier for them to retreat and mount an attack than it would be for us to get back to the safety of Atlantis."

Jason nodded wordlessly, his eyes probing the Amphigeneian lines carefully before turning to look a little suspiciously at the pavilion in the centre of the field. A small contingent of soldiers, led by the ever watchful Dion, drew up around Jason and the King. At a nod from Minos they raised their shields above their heads and started off. This was apparently the traditional sign that they came in peace, or so Pasiphae had told Jason – the ancient Greek version of the white flag of truce, he supposed.

The pavilion was smaller than Jason had imagined it would be – although to be honest he hadn't been sure _what_ to expect under the circumstances. The guards remained outside, leaving Minos to enter the tent with only his stepson and Dion with him as a personal guard. For a moment the three of them paused just inside the doorway, allowing their eyes to attune to the lower light level. As soon as his vision had adjusted Minos moved towards a comfortable looking seat in the centre of the room and deposited himself in it. He gestured imperiously to another seat near him, indicating that Jason should position himself in it. Jason acquiesced but could not help looking around at their surroundings, one foot tapping on the floor with nervous energy. Minos stared at that bouncing foot for a moment before raising an eyebrow and giving Jason an irritated look. Jason flushed and deliberately stilled, looking around the pavilion again.

The tent might have been smaller than he had thought but the furnishings were clearly meant for royalty, the young man decided at a quick glance. Everything was of the finest quality from the gold inlaid seats to the small carved table, complete with highly burnished bronze goblets and a richly decorated pitcher that graced the top. Dion, Jason noticed, had positioned himself near the doorway, his face stoically set and his posture alert and ready. He looked every inch the trained soldier, fully prepared to spring into action at a moment's notice. For a moment the young man wondered whether he could get away with joining the general, feeling that he couldn't sit still for too much longer. The thought was dismissed as quickly as it had come though; Minos would not have directed him to sit down if he didn't intend Jason to comply.

"You have come to surrender to me Minos?" The voice from the doorway was harsh and brittle; full of gravel and malevolence.

Jason straightened imperceptibly in his seat and turned to get his first look at the Amphigeneian King.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Thank you once again to Sigmund the lovely comments. I promise that I appreciate each and every one of them. I will admit that for the last week or so inspiration has been a little hard to come by, which is why this chapter is being posted much later than I had originally planned. I hope you all enjoy it no matter what.
> 
> I meant to explain in the last chapter that the game of Petteia is believed to have been somewhat similar to the Chinese game of Go, although it was played on a much smaller board and with far fewer pieces (only 8x8 as opposed to the "standard" Go board of 19x19). It was referred to as Petteia by Plato, Aristotle and Polybius but others referred to it by other names (e.g. Polis or Pessoi). In later Greek writings the name Petteia was also used to refer to Tilia (or Tabula) so it has been suggested that the name might actually refer to a class of games rather than one specific game. The earlier writers, however, seem to have been quite clear in the fact that they were referring to one specific game.
> 
> Right. History lesson over! ;-) On with the story...
> 
> Please don't forget to leave me a review to let me know what you think...

As Jason looked at the Amphigeneian King for the first time he almost gasped aloud. Anaxandros was a large man – a largeness of bone and muscle rather than fat – tall with mid-brown hair running to grey and a long scar that ran from the corner of his mouth up to his hairline, pulling the mouth into a permanent sneer. He wore a long green cloak with a deep border of silver thread. Jason knew this man; had seen him before; had dreamed about him sacrificing the Oracle on the main altar of the Temple. He swallowed hard feeling completely off balance. This was impossible he told himself. He surely must still be dreaming and any moment he would wake up. Yet there was no way he could be dreaming; no way he was any less than wide awake. Knowing how important this meeting was he shook himself; pulling himself together and shoving his distinctly rattled feelings back down inside.

Anaxandros flicked a glance at Dion, standing mutely to attention by the entrance his expression unreadable, and motioned his own guard to stand on the other side. Then he moved towards Minos, his lips pulled back into a triumphant sneer, sparing the barest glance for Jason on his way past.

"Well?" he demanded. "Have you come to surrender?"

Minos' lips twitched slightly and he gestured towards the seat opposite him.

"I hardly think that would be appropriate at this juncture," he stated firmly.

Anaxandros sat down and fixed Minos with a hard glare, smirking unpleasantly.

"I am surprised to see you bring your eromenos with you," he said nastily, gesturing towards Jason. "Isn't he a little old anyway? Most men like them younger."

Minos felt rather than saw Jason stiffen and realised that the implication of Anaxandros' words had not been lost on the young man. Knowing a little of the attack the lad had suffered at the hands of Alektryon the King felt a sudden surge of anger towards his rival. Anaxandros had no right making that sort of insinuation and stirring up bad memories – even if there was no way he could know the young man's history. Knowing that he needed to remain calm for the duration of this meeting, however, the Atlantian King ruthlessly suppressed his ire.

"I am a married man," he said coldly.

"Many men are married," Anaxandros retorted, "yet they still continue their assignations with their eromenos. My own inclinations do not run in those directions but if they did… let's just say I approve of your taste." He smirked maliciously, knowing full well that he was angering his Atlantian counterpart.

"Jason is not my eromenos," Minos stated sharply. "He is a kinsman and younger than my own son would have been. He has come here at my behest." He paused and looked at the Amphigeneian King icily. "All this unpleasantry is beside the point, however. We are here to discuss the withdrawal of your forces from Atlantian territory and adherence to the terms of our former peace treaty… once you have agreed to make appropriate reparations of course."

Anaxandros stared at Minos for a moment and then burst out into harsh laughter.

"From where I am sitting your position is untenable," he said. "You are weak, isolated and alone. My forces will make short work of your city and all you hold dear will be destroyed. Surrender to me now and save yourself the suffering."

"I am hardly likely to respond favourably to such a demand," Minos responded. "We are far from being as isolated and desperate as you seem to believe. The walls of Atlantis are strong and we have all the food and clean water we require. Our forces are ready to repel you… as you have no doubt already learned to your cost in your earlier attacks."

"Now our siege engines are built?" Anaxandros proclaimed. "How long do you think your "strong" walls will withstand their punishment? They will be reduced to rubble and your city to dust."

"And yet I am unmoved," Minos answered. "Your pointless posturing will do nothing. I am not here to offer you a surrender and we both know it."

Anaxandros laughed. It was a harsh, bitter sound and far from pleasant.

"To business then," he growled. "I presume you wish to name champions."

"Perhaps later," Minos murmured standing and moving towards the table with the goblets. He poured out three cups of wine and handed one to Anaxandros, passing a second to Jason and turning with the third to sit down. "I thought that first we might discuss the peace treaty you have breached in coming here with your army."

"That treaty was made null and void the instant you usurped the throne," Anaxandros snarled. "Your advisors must have told you that the clause in the treaty exists. I am merely claiming what is mine by right."

"Oh they have confirmed that it does indeed exist," Minos answered. "They have also said, however, that the length of time it has taken you to decide to invoke it makes your position somewhat shaky. If you had truly believed that you had a right to the throne of Atlantis you would have made your move more than twenty years ago. This appears to be a desperate attempt by a greedy and power hungry monarch to legitimise his own desires. I cannot see this act will bring you many allies. Your oath breaking will be reviled by our friends and enemies alike."

"I hardly think they will be that concerned. After all they did not stir themselves when you stole the throne from the legitimate King."

"That was different," Minos argued. "The civil war had been long and bloody. Trade had been disrupted to the extent that the other city states were only too pleased to see a return to stability. For more than twenty years we have had a period of peace and prosperity. Your invasion will only disrupt trade and thereby damage the economies of our trading partners. The neighbouring kingdoms will not look on you with favour for this act of aggression."

Anaxandros barked a laugh again.

"What do I care for the neighbouring kingdoms?" he said. "Atlantis is mine by right. It should have been mine the instant that Aeson and his brat were killed. I am merely claiming what is my own."

"An interesting point but somewhat academic," Minos answered smoothly.

"How so?"

"You offered this current truce demanding that I should either cede the city to you or produce the heir of Aeson. I have already made clear to you my intentions in the first point but you have not asked my intentions on the second."

"Everyone knows that Aeson's son is dead," Anaxandros retorted cynically. "You cannot produce a ghost."

" _Everyone_ is wrong," Minos answered calmly. "The boy was taken far from the city towards the end of the civil war so that he might be brought up away from anyone who might seek to use him for their own ends; to keep him safe from the likes of you. He was returned to Atlantis almost a year ago and has taken his rightful place at his mother's and my side."

"You lie," Anaxandros hissed.

"No," Minos said coldly. "I do not."

Jason had so far watched the exchange between the two kings in silence. Although Pasiphae had striven to teach him the etiquette involved in the meeting of two monarchs he had to admit that he saw little of the manners and social norms she had described employed here. Far from being the formal, stiffly correct and proper meeting that would be usual with such an encounter, it was more like watching two prize fighters squaring off against one another before a particularly important bout.

Anaxandros, it was clear, was employing every tactic at his disposal to rile up his rival. Jason wasn't exactly sure what the word eromenos meant precisely but he thought he could probably guess from Anaxandros' implications alone. He had stiffened involuntarily as he had realised the truth and knew that Minos, who he had learned over the past few days was far more perceptive than Jason would ever have given him credit for, had sensed his discomfort. He should be angry and disgusted at the implication, he felt, and yet almost as soon as he had realised what Anaxandros was driving at all he had really wanted to do was laugh. He knew a little of the pederasty of the period he currently found himself living in and knew that there wasn't necessarily any stigma attached to an older, wealthy man taking a younger male lover – and really he was alright with that even if it wasn't where his own inclinations lay as long as there was consent on both sides – but the thought of the oh-so strictly formal and conservative Minos engaged in a that sort of practice was ever so slightly ridiculous.

Much to Minos' credit he hadn't allowed himself any lapse in temper; had kept his cool even in the face of those insinuations and the provocation he must naturally have felt. Jason watched the exchange between the two monarchs silently, his eyes intent. It was his place to sit back, watch and listen until he was called upon to take part, so that was exactly what he did. Watching the King engaged in a game of politics with a fellow monarch was rather like watching an elaborate dance, he decided – he might not know all the complicated steps but he could appreciate the sheer artistry.

As Jason watched and listened, he toyed with the bronze goblet in his hand. Would it be rude, he wondered, to get up and put it back on the table? After all he really didn't want to drink it. He wasn't that big a drinker in the first place and it really was far too early in the day to be starting on wine. It had been deliberately left out for this meeting though – provided by the Amphigeneian servants who had furnished the pavilion, although the fact that they had set out half a dozen goblets indicated that they had been uncertain as to the number of participants – and Jason didn't want to cause any sort of incident by refusing hospitality if it would be construed as rudeness. He looked about him, uncertain as to what he should do. Minos, he noted, had also not drained his cup. Perhaps then there was a way that he could avoid having to drink without causing offence. With studied care he tucked the still full cup under his chair quietly hoping that no one noticed him doing it and took it as discourtesy and that he managed to avoid kicking it over.

Minos clearly sensed his movement and turned to offer a half smile to his stepson. Anaxandros, however, didn't so much as glance in the young man's direction – something for which Jason was remarkably grateful – never taking his eyes off Minos.

"You think you can trick me into renouncing my rightful claim by this transparent pretence?" he demanded. "Do you really think me that much of a fool? I am hardly likely to believe your fantastical claim that the brat somehow survived when you cannot even produce him for my inspection."

"I did not say that you would not be able to meet him, merely that he had been raised beyond the borders of Atlantis and had recently returned to the city of his birth," Minos answered smoothly. "He has returned to his mother's side as his duty dictates."

Jason had to give his stepfather credit. Everything Minos was saying was strictly true; it was just that the spin he was putting on everything was designed to make Anaxandros believe that Jason's existence and whereabouts had been known to him all along. It was fascinating seeing the way the man operated under pressure; seeing the politician coming to the fore.

Anaxandros stared at Minos with dawning understanding and ever growing suspicion. He turned to inspect Jason with hard eyes.

"What trick is this?" he demanded. "You expect me to believe that _he_ is the heir to the throne of Atlantis?" He gesticulated towards Jason.

Jason's mind reeled as the Amphigeneian King's words suddenly hit him. Heir to the throne? _Him_? No! That was Ariadne's place. There was no way he would _ever_ want what Anaxandros was suggesting. He'd never been very good with responsibility or organisation; had never wanted to be in a position of power or authority. All he'd ever really wanted from life was to be allowed to go his own way; to live his life the way he chose. In the past few months that desire – that dream – had changed slightly to include the people that he loved. Panic began to settle in again but he ruthlessly suppressed it. There would be time enough to fly apart later once he was back in the confines of his own room (and just when had he started to think of the chambers he had been given in the Palace as _his_ room?). For now he needed to concentrate on the situation at hand.

"Jason is indeed my wife's son by her former husband Aeson," Minos answered mildly.

"And where is your proof?" Anaxandros ground out. "You take a boy from who knows where – it could be the gutter for all I know – and try to present him to me as a prince? Did you imagine I was enough of a fool to merely take you at your word?"

"I imagined you would consult your seers," Minos answered. "You must have them among your retinue. They will confirm the truth of my words even if the evidence of your eyes does not. You, who visited our court with your father – of late lamented memory – in the days of both King Cretheus and King Aeson… you must be able to see my stepson's heritage. It is written in his face."

"I grant you that the boy bares passing resemblance to members of that accursed family but it is not proof positive. He could be anyone."

"Then you must investigate my claims as you see fit," Minos said regally. "And when you find the truth of the matter… when you learn that I have told you no more than the truth… I will await your emissary with the details of your surrender and withdrawal."

Anaxandros laughed.

"I see no need for either surrender or withdrawal," he barked. "I will crush you and your lies beneath my heel."

He stood and began to pace the room like a caged lion. Finally he stopped before Jason, his lips pulled back into an arrogant sneer.

"Which gutter did they find you in boy? What have they offered you to make this pretence?" He reached out and grasped Jason's chin firmly, his iron hard fingers digging in to the young man's jaw. " _Who are you_?"

"My name is Jason, My Lord," the brunette lad answered calmly. "I am the son of Queen Pasiphae."

Anaxandros hissed like a snake and dropped his hand as though he had been burned. Quick as a flash he produced a small jewelled dagger, no longer than his hand from hilt to tip, from its place of concealment under his tunic and held it to Jason's throat. Jason saw Dion begin to surge forwards out of the corner of his eyes before being stopped by a gesture from Minos. The Atlantian King's face had hardened; his eyes flat and enraged.

"Treachery," Minos growled.

Anaxandros looked vaguely amused.

"You did not expect me to come to this meeting unarmed and unprotected surely?" he demanded.

"We are both bound by the terms of the truce," Minos ground out.

"Indeed we are," Anaxandros said, "but I must defend myself against you… against your trickery and lies."

He pressed the blade a little more firmly against the exposed skin of Jason's throat.

"Who are you?" he repeated.

Jason smiled softly. Minos nearly shuddered. It was a strange, unnerving smile – certainly not an expression that the Atlantian King would have expected to see on his stepson's face given that the boy had a knife against his throat. Even Anaxandros looked a little disconcerted, the pressure he was applying to the knife lessening slightly in his confusion.

Part of Jason knew he should be worried about the apparently homicidal monarch holding a knife to him. The rational part of his mind was all but screaming at him to get away; to find a way to fight. From the moment Anaxandros had grabbed him, however, he had been assaulted by images that rose unbidden to his mind; images that he knew without question were the truth (although _how_ he knew raised more questions and was something he knew he would have to ponder later). As the images (were they memories or something else?) replayed in his head he felt dreamy and detached; a calm lassitude sweeping over him. As the images faded again he looked up at Anaxandros with absolute calm and smiled softly.

"We have met before, My Lord," he said with certainty.

Anaxandros glowered.

"I assure you that we have not," he spat, hand tightening on the knife hilt once more. The lack of fear in the young man's hazel eyes was more than a little perturbing.

"You were younger," Jason murmured, his eyes distant, "and you didn't have the scar. Your father had come to talk with mine and you had come as part of his official retinue."

"What trickery is this?" Anaxandros demanded. "I would have expected better of you than this Minos. This blatant attempt at manipulation is beneath even you. To present this brat in this manner is an insult to the Amphigeneian people and I will have my retribution for it; I will have what is mine by right."

"You were angry," Jason continued, his voice faraway. "You had believed that after so many years of marriage my father would not produce an heir and that Atlantis would eventually fall to you. When you had learned that my mother was pregnant you had prayed to Hermes for her to lose her child. Your father had hoped that I would be born a girl so that an arrangement might be made where any daughter of Aeson would be betrothed to you or to your son and that Atlantis would come into your hands by that marriage. You were angry that Hermes had not answered your prayers and I had survived… and you were angry that I was male. When no one was looking started muttering about what a shame it would be if anything happened to me and you twisted my arm until I screamed."

Anaxandros let out a strangled cry and dropped the knife, his face turning ashen and his breath coming in harsh gasps.

"Witchcraft," he growled. "There is no other way you could know…" He swallowed hard and turned enraged eyes upon Minos. "You… I do not…"

"I give no brook to witchcraft," Minos answered coolly. "Jason _is_ the son of Aeson and Pasiphae. I am aware that this is a claim you will need to investigate thoroughly and confirm for yourself. I would expect you to abide by our truce until the matter is decided and will await your emissaries and your answer most keenly."

Anaxandros half stumbled back across the room and sank back into the chair he had vacated. He appeared shaken – off balance – just as Minos had hoped he would; although the Atlantian monarch did have to admit that it was for different reasons than the ones he had anticipated. He spared a quick look for his stepson. What exactly had Jason been talking about? The only thing that the King could imagine was that Pasiphae had primed her son with a story from his earliest childhood in an attempt to convince Anaxandros of the truth of his identity. It had been a good ploy, he decided, but he wished she had informed him of the plan beforehand. He turned back to the thoroughly rattled Amphigeneian King.

"I would imagine that you would still wish to appoint champions," he stated. "To that end I name my stepson Jason as champion of Atlantis."

"It would seem the prudent thing to do," Anaxandros spat back. "After all you can hardly expect me to take you at your word or to accept whatever witchcraft this boy is employing. I do not believe that this brat truly is the heir of Aeson but enquiries will be made. In the meantime I appoint Maro as Amphigeneian champion," he gestured towards the guard standing on the opposite side of the door to Dion. "He has never been beaten in battle. I will look forward to seeing him destroy you _boy_ ," he added, glaring at Jason before turning back to Minos. "And when your lies have been proved and your champion annihilated I will look forward to seeing you on your knees before me; to executing you before your own people. The world will see what happens to those who dare to defy Anaxandros and to insult Amphigeneia. The truce will hold while your spurious claims are disproven. Then I will wreak havoc on your city; I will make your people rue the day they ever heard the name of Minos. You will have my answer four days hence."

He pushed himself to his feet and, with one final sneer at Minos, swept from the pavilion with his guard in tow.

Minos let out an explosive breath and cast a meaningful glance at Dion, who turned at the unspoken order to check that Anaxandros really was making his way back to his own lines. Then the King turned back towards Jason. The boy was holding himself rigidly stiff and for a moment Minos wondered whether he was still experiencing lingering discomfort from their ride here. It was very possible, he thought grimly, and that discomfort was only likely to increase on their journey back. It would do no good to put it off though; would not benefit Jason in any way to delay and would in fact only potentially place the whole party in danger to linger here so far from the safety of the city walls.

"We must leave," he said firmly as he stood up. "It would be foolhardy to delay. I do not believe that Anaxandros would be so crass as to attack us under the current truce but my presence and the presence of so many high ranking members of our court may prove too tempting a target for others seeking to curry favour with their King. We must return to the safety of Atlantis forthwith." He paused and studied Jason more seriously as his eyes caught a faint trickle of blood running down the young man's neck to stain the edge of his tunic slightly. "You have been harmed?" he demanded.

Jason blinked at him in confusion and then raised his fingers to his throat, drawing them back and studying the blood that stained them with some surprise.

"No," he murmured. "It's just a nick I think." He touched the small cut again. "I've done worse to myself while I've been shaving," he added with a certain amount of humour.

Minos frowned. He wasn't entirely sure that he liked Jason's manner of making light of what could potentially have been a grave injury at the very least if the situation had ended just a little differently. Jason took in the slightly forbidding expression with a sigh. Minos did not looked pleased at his attempt to lighten the atmosphere; clearly viewed his flippancy with some displeasure. No doubt Jason would be hearing just how upset the King was from his mother later – although he couldn't help thinking that perhaps she might actually be more upset that Anaxandros had pulled a knife on him than about his own attempts to make light of what had happened.

"I really am alright My Lord," he murmured seriously. "It's just a small cut and the bleeding is stopping already."

He stood up and began to move towards the entrance. Minos was right that there was no sense putting off the journey back to the city – as unpleasant as he suspected it might be. His side was still aching from the journey over here and his knee had stiffened up unpleasantly due to a combination of being forced into a bent position for the ride immediately followed by sitting down in one place for a little too long. A firm hand on his arm made him turn a little too quickly, biting back a yelp that attempted to escape as his ribs pulled once again.

Minos raised an eyebrow as he looked closely at the young man. From the tightening around Jason's eyes it appeared that he had been right and that the boy was experiencing more than a little discomfort. He made the mental note to send Mnesus to his stepson's chambers once they had returned to the Palace. He did not believe that Jason had in any way injured himself further but it surely would not hurt to have the doctor make sure that he was as well as could be expected. If nothing else the old man should have something in his bag of tricks to relieve any lingering soreness the boy might feel. Jason had been correct though. It did indeed appear that the bleeding from the cut Anaxandros had made was stopping and it was indeed only a small, shallow cut; little more than a nick. Minos inwardly cringed though. Pasiphae would not be pleased to learn how her son had acquired it.

Jason shifted awkwardly under the close scrutiny from the King. He really wasn't sure that he'd ever get used to being checked over by anyone; to having people express concern for his wellbeing. The fact that it was the King somehow made it even worse.

Finally – after what seemed like an age to Jason but was in fact no more than a moment or two – Minos nodded.

"Very well," he said. "Let us leave this place behind us as quickly as we may and return to the safety of the Palace. No doubt your mother will be most anxious to see your return."

He turned and strode out to join his guards, Dion and Jason in tow.

* * *

The ride back to the Palace had taken far longer than Minos would ideally have liked. They had hurried back to the horses and mounted as quickly as they could before setting out for the city at a canter, painfully aware of the Amphigeneian presence behind them. The King had made sure that his stepson was not loitering at the back of the group this time and had brought him as far forward as possible without disquieting the lad. Leaving General Dion with him had been a good idea, Minos decided. Jason seemed to respond well to the burly soldier's straightforward personality and Dion was intelligent enough to keep an eye on his younger companion – especially as it was obvious to anyone looking for the signs that Jason was suffering and trying hard to hide it. Not that most of the assembled group of advisors and servants would even think of looking for those signs. They were far too caught up in their own intrigues to care about the welfare of the newcomer in their midst.

At least having Jason so close to the front had allowed Minos to cast a watchful glance at the young man from time to time too. Pasiphae would be less than pleased if he allowed any harm to come to her son. Minos had learned to avoid the worst of his wife's temper over the years. She had never directly challenged him of course and certainly never openly argued over matters of state, but it was an accepted (albeit unwritten) rule that she had complete sway over domestic matters. The wellbeing of the children of the royal household had fallen within her auspices and now, no matter how grown he might be, that extended to her own son as well. Actually Minos had the feeling that she would be much more fierce when it came to protecting Jason than she might ordinarily have been purely because he had been separated from her for so long. The Queen was almost subconsciously trying to make up for lost time.

Cantering had been hard on Jason. As they had entered through the Telapius Gate and slowed to a prancing walk Minos had glanced behind him to check the progress of the rest of his retinue and had met the concerned eyes of General Dion. Dion had nodded almost imperceptibly towards his younger companion and Minos had taken the hint and looked more closely at his stepson. Jason was leaning forwards slightly in his saddle. To the casual observer it might seem as though he were simply trying to get a better look at what was going on around him. Minos' probing eyes, however, quickly spotted the whiteness of the knuckles on the hand that grasped the pommel oh so tightly, the elbow of the arm that apparently casually held the reins pulled in tightly and protectively to the side, the rigidity of the shoulders that spoke of pain and the tightness in the skin around the young man's eyes where it was pulled into a faint frown. Jason, Minos was fairly certain, was not looking at what was going on around him either. His gaze was turned inwards; his whole focus fixed on trying to keep how he was feeling from registering on his face; on trying not to show weakness and let anyone down. Once again Minos found himself surprised by the young man's fortitude.

It would be preferable to return to the Palace as soon as possible, Minos decided. He was more convinced than ever that his stepson ought to be despatched to rest before the boy's mother got the chance to see him in this state and that a short visit from the doctor was in order just to ensure that the lad received all the care he required. Pasiphae would be much happier if Minos could tell her that her son was resting relatively pain free. Mnesus himself had approached the King late last night. On being granted an audience he had rather diffidently suggested that, while there was no suggestion that Jason should not accompany Minos to his meeting with Anaxandros, the short ride alone might be taxing on a body that was still recovering from recent injury and that a short period of rest on their return might be in order to refresh the boy properly. Knowing that the elderly doctor spoke only out of concern for his patient and would never have suggested anything unnecessarily, Minos treated his words with the seriousness they deserved. He had despatched a note to Pasiphae early this morning suggesting that as both he and Jason were to miss the midday meal some food might be arranged for their return. He had further suggested that it might be prudent for Jason to receive his meal in his chambers where he might be encouraged to relax after what was sure to be a difficult morning. The King was certain that his wife would have got the point.

He had not, however, bothered to inform Jason of these arrangements, reasoning that what he had seen of the lad indicated that he would be likely to perversely dig his heels in out of a sheer stubborn desire to prove himself. No doubt the young man's friends could be relied upon to ensure he rested as required. Minos had the feeling they would take one look at Jason and all but tie him to the bed. If that failed then a gentle word from Mnesus to Pasiphae would undoubtedly assure her son's acquiescence.

The journey through the streets took longer than expected, however, and Minos chafed at the delay. More than once they were forced to halt their progress due to the sheer numbers of people in the streets. The sudden influx of refugees from the surrounding countryside had swollen the size of the population significantly and the main agora and its surrounding streets were packed with people seeking supplies as a direct result. Here and there carts still rumbled from the warehouses to the market place, backing up the side streets where they simply could not force their way through the crush of bodies. Minos found himself swearing under his breath at each pause.

To be completely fair he supposed that the citizens of the city did try to get out of the way of the royal party as quickly as they could. The problem was more that they had nowhere to go to _get_ out of the way and so some delay was inevitable. The final halt came when they came across a man whose cart had lost a wheel, shedding its load into the middle of the street. He tried desperately to collect what he could of his goods from the dust as quickly as possible but there was no real way for him to move out of the way with any speed. Minos cursed again – more openly this time. With a start he realised that a certain pair of hazel eyes were watching him intently; almost burning into him. There was a challenge in Jason's eyes that made Minos frown. What did the boy expect of him? It was a long time since anyone had dared to look at the King in that manner and Minos wasn't entirely sure that he liked it or how he should respond.

Then it came to him. From what he had learned Jason's first meeting with Heptarian had been under similar circumstances. Only then it had resulted in Heptarian hitting the owner of the cart in a fit of pique at the delay, and in Jason hitting Heptarian in turn and getting sentenced to the bull court as a direct result. The young man was clearly waiting to see what the King's reaction would be to a similar situation; to see whether he would behave in the same manner as his wife's nephew had. The boy looked almost ready to jump down from his horse (although given his current condition Minos suspected it would be more of a fall than a jump) and help fix the cart himself.

The King frowned. That would need to be prevented. It would not be appropriate for a member of the royal retinue to sully his hands in such a manner and would no doubt be a cause for a great deal of gossip among the populous – gossip that would no doubt include speculation as to Jason's identity. It would be a sure fire way for the boy to lose the anonymity he so clearly desired. With a curt gesture to the guards accompanying him Minos sat back and waited, watching as the guards efficiently moved the damaged cart to one side, began the process of putting the wheel back into place and helped collect the goods that had been scattered. He turned in his saddle slightly and caught the smile that his stepson was giving in his direction – the unrestrained respect showing in the lad's eyes – and found a soft smile of his own creeping up on him unexpectedly. Idly he wondered whether Jason realised just how great an effect he had on the people around him. Probably not, he decided.

Finally though the party cleared the city streets and made their way into the Palace complex. Minos pulled his horse straight into the royal stables, knowing that Jason would follow him while the other members of the retinue dismounted outside and delivered their mounts to their servants before hurrying away to their meals and duties. The dark stables would at least offer the King and his stepson a little privacy and would allow Jason a few moments to compose himself after what had undoubtedly been an unpleasant journey for him, short though it had been.

In one swift but graceful movement the King dismounted and threw the reins of his mount to a waiting stable hand. Then he turned with some concern to regard his wife's son. Jason was clearly trying to work out how to get down from the horse with the least amount of discomfort to himself and Minos found himself silently sympathising and wondering whether it would be possible to call a servant to assist the young man without damaging his pride too much.

Jason, for his part, could feel the eyes of the King upon him. He eyed the distance to the ground and tried not to grimace. This would, he suspected, be somewhat painful and distinctly lacking in grace. The truth was that the closer they had got to Atlantis the more awful he had felt. At first it had simply been an expansion of the earlier aches and pains; hot pain becoming a companion as every step that the horse took jolted and jarred him a little more. By the time they had reached the city walls other feelings had begun to take over however – a burning that had begun deep in the back of his throat making it painful to swallow; a heaviness to his limbs that threatened to send him sprawling across the back of the horse and meant that all his concentration was required just to keep him upright; an ache that seemed to encompass his whole body, every nerve ending seeming to throb in time to his heartbeat.

Jason frowned. It was odd how quickly he had begun to feel unwell. Perhaps though it was simply a combination of lack of sleep, lack of food and lingering pain from his ribs and knee (re-awoken by today's activities); perhaps what he really needed most was to lie down for a little while. Pythagoras would undoubtedly push some kind of painkilling tonic on him (and really that wasn't such a bad idea) and then maybe he might be allowed to rest for a bit – just until he felt better; felt a bit more like himself. The more he thought about it the more attractive the idea of lying down for a bit sounded. First though he had to get down off this horse. He would have to do it fairly quickly too. If the look in Minos' eye was anything to go by the King was seconds away from calling someone to help him dismount and that would be deeply embarrassing.

Muttering a quick prayer to whatever Gods might happen to be listening that he wouldn't completely humiliate himself in the next couple of minutes, Jason swung his good leg over the back of the horse, trying desperately to ignore the rising tidal wave of nausea combined with the sharp stab of pain from his ribs, and dropped to the floor in a graceless slide. The impact of his feet with the ground was jarring, but perhaps a little less so than he had been anticipating. Even so Jason couldn't quite muffle a groan and found himself turning quickly to grab hold of the horse for support, resting his forehead against the animal's flank.

A hand came to rest supportively in the small of his back. Jason could feel it through the leather breastplate that he wore but for the moment couldn't seem to summon up the energy to check who it was. After a long minute he pulled himself together and turned to look blearily into the eyes of the King; eyes that were brimming with concern. Jason attempted a smile, although he wasn't entirely sure how successful he had been given the way Minos' eyes narrowed. He gulped and tried not to let his nervousness at the King's scrutiny show.

"It was a difficult meeting," Minos murmured stepping back slightly to give his stepson a little space. "You did very well." He smiled faintly at the way Jason automatically ducked his head and tried to shrug the compliment away. Sooner or later the boy would have to learn to accept praise without embarrassment but that was something that could be learned with time.

"Thank you Your Majesty," Jason muttered.

"Now I believe that your mother has arranged for food to be delivered to your chambers and, as any duties that were required of you are completed for the present, I will not detain you. I believe that her intention was for you to have the afternoon to yourself." Minos did not miss the look of relief that passed through his younger companion's eyes. "I know from experience, however, that riding so hard with damaged ribs will produce its own level of discomfort. As I have no wish to see you suffering in any way I would encourage you to rest for a while, and in order to ease your mother's mind I intend to send Mnesus to ensure that you are not experiencing undue pain." He looked at his stepson sternly.

Jason opened his mouth and took a deep breath, clearly intending to argue, but deflated with a wince as the breath caused a particularly sharp throb in his ribcage.

"Thank you," he murmured again with genuine gratitude. Much as he would have liked to argue that he didn't need to see the doctor and in fact was completely fine, he did feel moderately awful at present and knew that Minos was only acting out of concern.

The King raised an eyebrow.

"Will you require assistance to return to your chamber?" he asked.

"No," Jason answered quickly. "I'll be fine. I'm a little tired, My Lord, but I should be able to get there alright."

"Very well," Minos answered. "Then I shall detain you no longer."

Jason nodded and limped towards the door, aware that the King was still watching him and fully intent on finding his own bed and rest.

* * *

By the time Jason arrived at the door of his chamber he was seriously regretting the fact that he had refused assistance. He paused in the doorway trying to decide whether or not he actually had the energy to turn the handle, heart pounding and slightly panting with the sheer effort it had taken him to walk here. Aching all over, he closed his eyes and let his head rest against the door, relishing the cool feel against his skin, as a bead of sweat trickled uncomfortably down his back.

"Jason?" Pythagoras called from somewhere behind him, sounding faintly confused at finding him leaning against a door in the corridor.

Jason forced his eyes open and turned to face his friend. As he somewhat groggily watched, Pythagoras' face morphed into a mask of concern, making him realise that, yes, he probably did look as bad as he felt right now and, no, he didn't really care to be honest.

"Hi," he said.

Pythagoras' expression of exasperated concern deepened and he crossed to Jason's side in two short steps, one slender hand reaching to pull his friend's arm across his shoulders while the other reached around Jason to open the door handle.

"What happened?" the mathematician asked as he manoeuvred them both into the room and over towards the bed.

"Dunno," Jason answered. "We went and met King Anaxandros and on the way back I started feeling ill." He paused and blinked owlishly at Pythagoras. "I really don't feel very well," he confessed.

"Yes I can see that," Pythagoras answered gently. "You are running a slight fever," he added resting a cool and appraising hand against his friend's forehead. "Let's get you into bed and then we can work out what is wrong from there."

With practised ease he gently helped Jason to sit down on the edge of the bed and moved to undo the lacings on his breastplate and wrist braces, slipping them off his friend before removing the now sweat drenched tunic and replacing it with a clean and soft nightshirt.

As Pythagoras turned to look for a cloth, carefully dipping it into a jug of cool water laid out on the table and wringing most of the moisture back out of it, Jason crawled onto the bed and flopped back with an audible groan, throwing one arm up over his eyes to try to block out the light. Everything was aching and the light was too bright and his stomach was starting to cramp painfully. He groaned again and rolled onto his side, trying to curl up into a ball as far as his knee would allow.

Pythagoras turned back with a frown. He took in his dark haired friend's hunched posture and scrunched up eyes and his frown deepened even more. Jason had not appeared to be ill this morning. A little distracted perhaps but that had only seemed natural given the importance of the meeting he was to attend. The speed with which he had apparently become unwell worried the blonde mathematician. Treat the immediate obvious symptoms, his logical mind told him. When Jason is a little more coherent you will be able to get the full story of what happened and how he is feeling and then you might be able to work out exactly what is wrong. With that in mind he moved to the window and twitched the curtains closed, lowering the light level in the room. Another storm seemed to be brewing he noted absently, making the mental note to ask someone to put up the storm shutters later.

Making his way over to the bed he sat down carefully on the edge and gently teased his friend's arm away from his face, leaning over to mop the sweat away from Jason's forehead with the damp cloth he had prepared. A soft tapping at the door startled him. Before he went to answer, however, he looked back at Jason only to find a pair of misery filled hazel eyes watching him.

"I will just see who it is and come straight back," he murmured, laying the damp cloth in place across Jason's forehead.

Opening the door to the doctor he had met the other day Pythagoras almost sighed in relief. The old man had seemed extremely competent (which one would expect from a royal physician the young genius supposed) and kindly enough. Perhaps more importantly Jason had seemed to like him which was a distinct bonus given how stubborn the brunette could be even when ill.

"His Majesty felt that Prince Jason might be in some discomfort following his ride," the old man murmured. "He has tasked me with ensuring that His Highness is made comfortable."

Pythagoras blinked in surprise at hearing his friend described in that manner. Of course it should not surprise him, he admonished himself, he knew exactly who Jason was – but knowing logically that his friend was a prince and hearing him referred to as such were two completely different things.

"He is not well," the mathematician murmured, showing the doctor in. "He is running a slight fever and at the very least has a headache and is experiencing pains in his stomach. I had not had the time to investigate any further, however, before your arrival."

Mnesus frowned worriedly. He had expected his young patient to be somewhat sore after his ride but not actually actively unwell. He hurried across the room to the bed and sat down in the place that Pythagoras had vacated, feeling for Jason's pulse with one hand while the other rested lightly against the lad's hot face.

"I understand that you are not feeling well My… Jason." At the last moment he remembered that the young Prince preferred to be called by his given name and knowing that they were alone, save for the young man's friend, deciding to oblige him.

Jason nodded softly.

"Perhaps you would be so good as to describe your symptoms for me," Mnesus said softly.

"Mainly I just ache all over and I'm really tired," Jason answered. "My stomach's cramping up pretty badly but at least I don't feel like I want to be sick. My throat's pretty sore too."

"Hmm," the doctor answered through pursed lips. "Would you mind rolling onto your back for me so that I might examine you properly?"

Once Jason had complied the good doctor began his examination, questioning the young man as he did.

"When did this come on?" he asked.

Jason grimaced as Mnesus pressed against his tender abdomen.

"On the way back from the meeting," he admitted. "At first I thought it was just where I was a bit sore from riding. I mean my knee had been aching a bit and my ribs really didn't like it when we moved above a walk. Then it just got worse the nearer we got to the Palace."

"Hmm," Mnesus said again. "The symptoms were sudden then."

"Yeah," Jason answered. He curled in on himself with a moan as a particularly vicious cramp assaulted his stomach.

Mnesus' frown deepened. Stepping away from the bed, he moved over to the fireplace and opened a cupboard alongside it. Pythagoras watched curiously as the old man removed what appeared to be a piece of thick cloth and a very large stone from the cupboard and placed the stone into the centre of the cracking fire. After a few minutes he removed it and wrapped it securely in the cloth, coming back to the bed with the warm bundle in his arms.

"This should help alleviate the aching in your stomach," he said gently, placing it down on the bed next to Jason so that the lad could curl around it.

The old man glanced up to see Pythagoras looking at him quizzically and smiled.

"Stones such as this are in all of the chambers in the family wing," he explained. "They are used for warming the beds when the weather is coldest. For now though the heat will be beneficial for more medicinal purposes."

He turned back to Jason and continued his examination. After a moment he paused, his worried frown deepening into something darker.

"This scratch," he said indicating the shallow cut that Jason had received from Anaxandros earlier. "How did you come by it?"

"King Anaxandros didn't really want to believe that I was the Queen's son," Jason answered touching the cut gently. "He accused King Minos of lying and pulled out a knife. He was trying to force me to tell him who I really was and pressed a bit hard. I don't think he really meant to cut me… I have a feeling that it would have been a lot worse if he had. I didn't even feel it at first… although it's stinging a bit now."

Pythagoras leant in for a look at what was attracting the doctor's attention and gasped slightly. The cut that the doctor was speaking of was indeed little more than a scratch – small and shallow – yet it looked angry and inflamed. Mnesus caught the young genius' eyes and nodded once, grimly. He gestured to Pythagoras and drew him away from Jason.

"Is that?" Pythagoras began.

"I believe so, yes," the doctor answered. "Do not worry though. Jason is young and strong and somehow by the grace of the Gods appears to have only received a mild dose. It may well be as he says that the blade was not meant for him and the cut delivered accidentally. Now that I am fairly certain of what I am dealing with I will be able to treat him accordingly. With the correct tonics and rest he should be back to himself by the morrow. I will require milkweed and orris root and would ask you to obtain some from the servants while I am gone."

"Where are you going?" Pythagoras asked.

Mnesus sighed.

"It is my duty to inform the King of this development," he said. "I believe that it will be my unpleasant duty to inform the Queen that I suspect her son has been poisoned."


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N I seem to have written another monstrously long chapter... not quite sure how that happened!
> 
> While I've tried not to get too graphic about ancient Greek medicine, if you're squeamish it would perhaps be best to avoid this chapter altogether.
> 
> Anyway I hope this chapter lives up to all your expectations. As always don't forget to let me know if you've enjoyed the chapter - reviews always encourage me to write more! ;-)

"Poisoned?" Minos turned back from the window with a startled exclamation. "Are you sure?"

"As sure as I can be," Mnesus answered diffidently. "The young Prince is certainly exhibiting the signs."

Minos swore loudly. This was not an eventuality that he had imagined, although he supposed he really should have given Anaxandros' treacherous nature. He risked a glance at Pasiphae who reclined on a low couch on the far side of the room. She had come to Minos shortly after his return from the meeting with the Amphigeneian King to discover what had occurred. He had not got far in the tale when the doctor had burst in with his startling news.

Now she was paler than her husband had ever seen her; her hands gripping the edge of the couch so hard that her knuckles had turned white. She turned burning eyes upon Mnesus, silently demanding answers; silently demanding to know that her boy would be alright. Minos crossed the room in a few short strides, ready to provide support and comfort if she required it. He was not certain that his advances would be welcomed. Pasiphae was a strong and independent woman and rarely desired support from anyone. But this was not a threat to herself, the King reminded himself. This was a threat to her son; to the boy she had loved so fiercely from the moment he was born and lost so prematurely; to the son who had come back into her life so recently and so unexpectedly, who she was only just beginning to try to forge a relationship with. Surely under the circumstances it was only natural that she would be upset; that she would be almost beside herself with worry. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

Pasiphae looked up at her husband briefly before turning back to the doctor with an intensity that Minos had never seen before. Mnesus swallowed hard and quickly sought to reassure the Queen.

"I believe that your son will recover well, Your Majesty," he said gently. "The dose of poison he has received would appear to be a small one… enough to make him unwell without actually doing any permanent damage. He is young and strong and, recent injuries aside, would appear to be in excellent health. With proper treatment there is no reason to believe that he will not return to health quickly. I believe that by morning he will be much better although this night may not be the most comfortable he has ever experienced."

Minos breathed a sigh of relief, letting out the breath he hadn't realised he had been holding.

"You see my love," he murmured. "Jason will be fine."

" _Will be_ fine," Pasiphae snapped, "but he is not fine at present is he?" She glared at the elderly doctor once more.

"Prince Jason has some fever," Mnesus answered after a brief moment's hesitation, "and pains in his stomach that are causing him some discomfort and distress. I will need to purge the poison from his system… which in itself is not a pleasant procedure. Once the poison is purged the residual symptoms may be treated and I assure you he will recover quickly. He may have some lingering tenderness in his stomach for a few days and may experience some residual soreness in his muscles. It is also likely that he will tire more easily for a day or two… but it is nothing that he will not overcome shortly."

"How did this happen?" Pasiphae spat, flicking a murderous glare between the doctor and her husband.

"There is a small cut on his throat," the doctor responded. "It would appear insignificant and shallow but is inflamed. I believe that the blade that inflicted the cut was coated with poison." His gaze flicked between the King and Queen. "Your son informed me that he received it during his recent meeting with the King of Amphigeneia. We must thank the Gods that the cut was neither deeper nor larger than it is. The Prince received only a small dose of poison through it… enough to incapacitate rather than kill."

"And how did he receive a cut to his throat?" the Queen asked icily, turning towards her husband.

"The full story must wait for later," Minos said firmly. "I am sure you would not wish to detain the doctor from returning to Jason's chambers for any longer than necessary. For now I will merely tell you that Anaxandros refused to believe that I could be speaking the truth as to Jason's identity and sought to persuade the lad to admit that he was not Aeson's son by means of a knife at his throat. It was a move that I had failed to anticipate… and I deeply regret that I did not expect such treachery. The cut was inflicted in his haste."

"Prince Jason said as much himself," Mnesus agreed. "He also indicated that he believed the injury to be accidental."

"It is possible," Minos acknowledged. "Although it is equally possible that Anaxandros was so afraid of the idea that Aeson's heir had survived and reappeared that he acted out of desperation to rid himself of the threat he saw and that it is pure luck that he did not achieve his goal. I am mindful of the fact that he could not have known of Jason's existence before the meeting and that he could not have anticipated the presence of anyone other than myself and my personal guard. I must therefore conclude that the poison was intended for me and that Jason just presented Anaxandros with an alternative opportunity."

"Your Majesty," the doctor began, "I feel that it would be remiss of me to point out that with your own constitution lacking its former strength since your illness, it may be that any would be assassin – even Anaxandros himself – would believe that a fairly mild dose of poison would be enough to kill you. Under the circumstances it might even have been believed that the symptoms of the poison were simply a reoccurrence of your former illness."

"That may indeed be true," the King agreed, "and is undoubtedly something that we must bear in mind. For now though our primary concern must surely be with the health and wellbeing of your son, my love." He looked at Pasiphae.

"Indeed," Pasiphae answered sharply. Then her face and tone softened. "I should be with him," she murmured, half to herself.

"And you will be," Minos declared. "For now though it would seem prudent to let the good doctor go about his work and set Jason back on the road to health."

"I promise you, Your Majesty, that I will allow no harm to come to the young Prince whilst he is in my care," Mnesus added softly, looking sympathetically at the clearly worried mother.

"You will return to his side shortly I would expect," Minos stated decisively, turning back to the elderly doctor. It was clear that he was issuing an instruction rather than asking a question.

"Of course My Lord," Mnesus answered with certainty. "For now I have left the Prince in the care of his young friend; a young man who I have reason to believe is a gifted healer in his own right. I merely came to inform you of the situation. If it is agreeable to you I would prefer to return to Prince Jason now."

"Naturally," Minos answered, indicating that the old man was free to leave.

Once Mnesus had gone the King turned back to Pasiphae. If he had not been expecting the venom in her eyes he might have stepped backwards. Pasiphae had never seemed so angry in all the years he had known her; the fire spitting from her was truly remarkable.

"Anaxandros will pay for this," she hissed.

"We will make sure of it," Minos agreed.

"How did he manage to hold a knife to Jason's throat?" the Queen demanded venomously. "Where were the guards? They must be punished for this laxity."

"The guards were not to blame," Minos rumbled. "We were under a truce. To have searched Anaxandros for weapons would have been the gravest insult… surely you can see that? The knife was small – smaller than my hand – and it was well concealed. Anaxandros gave no warning until he drew it and by then he was upon Jason and it was too late." He sighed wearily. "Dion attempted to come to your son's aid but I motioned him back. I believed that if I had allowed him to attempt to defend the boy – to protect both Jason and myself – Anaxandros would simply have slit Jason's throat."

Pasiphae could not restrain the shudder that went through her at the thought.

"For a moment I was afraid," Minos admitted as he sat down on a couch opposite his wife, "but Jason acquitted himself very well under trying circumstances. He did not lose his temper no matter what provocation was thrust in his direction and showed no fear in the face of Anaxandros' craven attack. He appeared as nothing less than a true prince of Atlantis. You would have been proud of him."

"I _am_ proud of him," Pasiphae answered. "There is much in Jason to be proud of in spite of all that he has yet to learn."

"Indeed," Minos agreed. "You prepared him well and the boy has shown both how quickly he can adapt and how quickly he can learn over the last few days. It gives me hope for the future. The story that you primed him with worked perfectly. Anaxandros was utterly bewildered by it. It clearly hit a nerve… and Jason voiced it at the perfect moment. His apparent recollection of the past frightened Anaxandros enough that he dropped the knife and cried witchcraft."

Pasiphae frowned.

"I do not believe I understand your meaning, My Lord," she said firmly. "I did not prepare Jason with any stories. Indeed there has not been the time or occasion to discuss our shared history or his ancestry in anything other than the vaguest terms since the day of his arrival at the Palace."

"It was the story of Anaxandros' last visit to Atlantis," Minos clarified. "When Hagnon came to discuss the on-going terms of the peace treaty he had signed with King Cretheus. Jason said something about Anaxandros making him scream by twisting his wrist around. He also said that Anaxandros had prayed to Hermes that you would lose your child and had been angry that his prayers had not been answered. It was a brilliant ploy to introduce a "memory" of that nature and it certainly discomforted Anaxandros. He cannot help but think now that I am telling the truth and Jason is indeed Aeson's heir… although he will undoubtedly publically denounce such a notion."

"I assure you My Lord that I told Jason no such story," Pasiphae answered growing suddenly, inexplicably cold. "There was indeed an occasion when Hagnon visited even as you say and he did bring Anaxandros with him. He was young and arrogant… no older than I was myself… and believed that the world should bow down and worship him. He was, I suppose, not physically unattractive yet he had little to recommend him; the heir to a weakened kingdom with little in the way of personal charm. Against my better judgement I was persuaded to leave Jason alone for a time without a nurse or servant present. There was a reception for Hagnon that required my presence but Jason's nurse had been unwell… we had not seen her for some days... as it turned out she had had a virulent fever and died the next day. No alternative servant was available and as Jason was fast asleep and as the reception was to be short in nature Aeson convinced me that it would be reasonable to leave him. When we returned a short time later he was screaming – sobbing his heart out. Anaxandros was in the room. He claimed to have heard Jason screaming from the other end of the corridor and to have entered the room to try to quiet the boy's cries. I remember him referring to Jason as a brat and telling me to shut him up. Aeson prevented me from responding in the way I would have desired." She paused, looking thoughtful. "We never learned what had made the child cry so much. As a rule he was a quiet, sunny natured boy. His one wrist was a little red as I recall and Aeson suggested that he had pulled himself up on the side of his cradle – he was just beginning to learn to walk – and fallen back onto it, making himself cry in the process. Whatever had happened I could not calm him until it was just the two of us again – Jason and I – and everyone else had left. I did not even consider the fact that Anaxandros might have arrived earlier than he had claimed and deliberately hurt him."

"If you have not told Jason that story then is it possible that he did indeed remember his first encounter with Anaxandros?" Minos mused. "Could a child so young have retained the memory for all these years only for it to be triggered when he saw the man again?"

"Jason was not yet a year old when the events I have described came to pass," Pasiphae answered. "To imagine that he has any memory of the event is errant nonsense. No doubt he has been told of what happened – perhaps by Doctor Mnesus who might, given his medical knowledge, have suspected the slight injury to the boy's wrist was deliberately caused."

Pasiphae did have to wonder though as she considered both the story that her husband had told her of today's events and her memories of a time long past. With a sinking feeling the first inklings of a thought began to intrude themselves upon her mind. Perhaps her son's apparent memories of an event that he should in no way be able to remember were true. But if they were then it would mean that he shared some of the talents of her accursed sister – not Circe of course (although there was always the possibility that some of the gifts that both she and Circe shared had been passed on to him) but the other one; the one who could be named but she herself chose not to acknowledge. The thought that Jason might be subject to those particular "blessings" frightened her far more than she would have imagined it would. If it were true he would need to be trained in far more than politics – and soon, before the forces at play destroyed him.

That was a thought for the future though. For now all that was really important was that her boy was ill and it was her responsibility – her _right_ – to see that he was looked after. Pasiphae found herself caught by a burning desire to see him; to see for herself that Jason really would be alright. No matter how much the doctor had tried to reassure her, she would not be able to relax until she had seen her son for herself. Yet her duty meant that she could not do as she desired. Instead she would be required to stay here and discuss the implications of the meeting with Anaxandros with Minos; only when their discussion was finished would she be free to go to her son.

"Pasiphae."

Minos' voice drew her back from her thoughts. From the look on his face he had been calling to her for several minutes now. Pasiphae shook herself irritably. It was unlike her to become so distracted. She glared at her husband, still irrationally angry that he had allowed her son to be harmed. She had trusted the boy to his care and had expected Minos to ensure his safety – and, no, it didn't really matter to her right at this moment that Jason was an adult who would undoubtedly have something to say on the matter if he believed in any way that she thought he needed someone to look after him.

Far from being upset at her anger, however, the King looked back with compassionate eyes. Gently he reached out and caught her hand in his own.

"Go to him," he said softly.

"I believed you wished to discuss your meeting with Anaxandros, My Lord," Pasiphae answered. "That you wished to discuss the implications for the future of the city should the current siege continue and battle begin again."

"I do," Minos answered gently, "but there will be time enough for that later. Go to Jason. You will not rest easily until you have made sure of his welfare yourself." He sighed. "I am a father just as you are a mother. If it were Ariadne lying ill nothing in the world would be able to drag me away. I would no more be able to concentrate than you are right now. I do not think less of you for loving your son my love… if anything I think more. Go to him."

Pasiphae almost attempted a smile, although her worry was eating away at her.

"Thank you My Lord," she said genuinely. With one last fragile smile for her husband, she stood gracefully and made her way to the door, mind already turned towards her son's chambers and what she might find when she got there.

* * *

Pasiphae had forced herself to walk at her normal speed through the corridors of the Palace, frequently reminding herself that the Queen of Atlantis _did not run_. Yet the closer she got to Jason's room the faster her feet had seemed to want to go. Now she was here; standing outside his chamber door with her heart in her mouth. It was all very well for the doctor to tell her that he would recover well but having gone through the pain of losing him once she couldn't bear the thought of doing so again. Logically she knew he would be alright (he had to be – her heart demanded no less) and yet she could not help fearing what she would find in the room.

Through the door she could hear the soft rumble of a deep voice – a constant litany of words forming one single hum of sound – and with a frown realised that it meant that Jason's older friend was present in the room. It shouldn't surprise her. After all Mnesus had informed her that he had left the younger one looking after her son when he had come to speak to the King and Queen and it would be reasonable to expect that the older one would have put in an appearance too.

Then came the obvious sounds of someone being sick. Pasiphae winced. Mnesus had said that he needed to purge the poison from the boy's system and that it would not be pleasant. Briefly she wondered just how unpleasant it was likely to become for Jason. Needing desperately to know what was going on in the chamber, the Queen gently turned the door handle and quietly slipped into the room.

The chamber was darker than she had expected; the drawn curtains shading the light that came from the window; the only source of light coming from the small fire in the hearth. Over by that fire the elderly doctor was grinding something in a pestle, stopping occasionally to select another ingredient from the table, his eyes serious and thoughtful. Pasiphae spared him little more than a brief glance, however. Her sole interest was focussed on the bed.

Jason was half hanging over the side, still retching miserably into a bowl held by his older friend, who rubbed one large hand up and down the boy's back and murmured a constant stream of comfort into his ears. After a moment the retching ended – the immediate sickness seeming to pass for now – and the young man collapsed back, white faced and limp, onto the bed. His burly friend set the reeking bowl onto the floor and eased him into a more comfortable position, his attempts to soothe Jason with soft words and gentle touches never ceasing. As the skinny one (and for the first time Pasiphae found herself wishing that she knew his name – that she knew both of their names) hurried forwards with a cup in his hands, the larger one took it and held it out to Jason.

After another long moment Jason cracked open his eyes and looked at the cup suspiciously.

"What is it?" he asked.

Hercules tried not to wince. Jason's voice sounded absolutely wrecked right now; the result of a combination of the illness engendered by the Amphigeneian poison and half an hour spent solidly retching. The wrestler had the feeling that it was only going to get worse before it got better too.

"Just water," he said reassuringly. "Just swish it round your mouth a bit and take some of that nasty taste away."

Jason sighed.

"I thought for a minute that you were trying to give me something else that he and the doctor had concocted to try to make me throw up my toenails," he said with an attempt at a fragile smile and a nod towards Pythagoras.

It was a poor attempt at a joke at best but Hercules still smiled, figuring that as long as Jason was still trying to banter and find humour in the situation things couldn't be that bad.

"I know this is unpleasant," Pythagoras answered, perching on the side of the bed, his blue eyes filled with sympathy, "but there really is no other way. The poison that you were given is making you quite unwell and you will not get better until we have been able to purge it from your body. Only then will we be able to rebalance your humours."

Jason nodded then curled in on himself with a distressed moan as his stomach cramped agonisingly again, his face screwed up with pain.

Pasiphae was across the room before she really knew what she was doing, brushing past the startled Hercules to sit on the opposite side of the bed from the equally startled Pythagoras. Ignoring the other occupants of the room completely she grasped her son's hand with one of her own, running the other through his sweat drenched curls, trying to ease away the lines of pain from his forehead with her fingers. The boy was as pale as the sheets upon which he rested; his skin the colour of the snow that had capped the tops of the mountains to the north of far off Colchis where she had grown up. Breaking this pallor was the flush of fever which ran along his cheekbones fading back to whiteness as it descended his cheeks. His temperature was high but not as high as the Queen had feared it would be.

As pain caught hold of him he curled in on himself even more, writhing slightly. Pasiphae was dimly aware of Pythagoras leaving, only to return moments later with one of the blanket wrapped stones customarily used to warm the beds of the royal chambers in his hand, which he placed firmly into the curl of her son's body, resting it against Jason's abdomen.

"The warmth will help to ease the pain My Lady," he explained softly on seeing her questioning look.

"Of course," Pasiphae responded sharply.

She looked back at her son and her gaze softened. Unconsciously she carded one hand through his messy dark curls as the lines of pain began to ease away from his face again. After another moment the hazel eyes opened once more and stared at her.

"Hello Jason," she said gently. "Why don't you try and get some sleep my love? You will feel better if you do."

"Not tired enough yet," the young man rasped. He looked around the room. "Sorry. I'm causing trouble again aren't I?"

"This is not your fault," Hercules rumbled before Pasiphae could speak. "You can get that thought out of your head right now. You just concentrate on getting well."

The burly wrestler moved around the bed to the opposite side and sat down in the place that Pythagoras now vacated, going to join Mnesus by the fire, their heads bent together in deep discussion. The big man looked at the Queen with none of his usual deference – a challenge in his eyes as though daring her to object to his presence.

Pasiphae frowned. Who exactly did this peasant think he was? Yet even as his eyes challenged her, the older man's hands were dipping a cloth into a bowl of water and using it to mop the sweat away from her son's hot face with a gentleness that she simply had not expected to see from him; a gentleness borne of deep affection. He dipped the cloth into the water once more and laid it carefully across his friend's forehead, trying to lower the boy's fever in the best way he knew.

Jason tried to smile at him but it quickly became a wince and he arched backwards slightly, fingers clenching and unclenching spasmodically as his face twisted with pain once more.

Hercules swore softly. Without stopping to explain to the Queen what he was doing he reached out and began to knead his friend's shoulders firmly, working his way from the base of Jason's neck, across his shoulder blades and down his upper arms.

"What exactly do you think you are doing?"

Pasiphae's sharp voice made the burly wrestler look up, although his hands never ceased their motion.

"Your doctor warned us this might happen," he growled nodding towards Mnesus. "The poison's making his muscles spasm. I'm trying to ease the tension in them a bit, Your Majesty."

Pasiphae nodded not allowing herself to speak. Fear was making her sharper that she intended to be, the very sight of her child in so much pain scaring her far more than she had ever thought would be possible. She certainly did not intend to snap or snarl at Jason's friends. They might be far beneath her son – be no more than peasants – but right now that hardly concerned her. They clearly cared deeply for the boy (something that she would not have believed possible just a few days earlier) and if their presence brought Jason some comfort at the moment she was more than willing to tolerate it for his sake.

Without stopping to think what she was doing – without stopping to consider appearances – she slipped off her shoes and moved further onto the bed, resting her back against the headboard and pulling Jason into her arms so that he was resting comfortably against her. One hand recommenced petting his dark hair, tangling her fingers in the soft curls and sweeping them gently back from his overly warm face. She looked down into pain-filled hazel eyes and smiled gently.

"There now," she said. "We can at least try to make you comfortable."

She could feel just how tense the boy was, his fingers still clenching and unclenching and his lower lip caught between his teeth so hard that it had turned white, yet he never uttered a sound. Pasiphae frowned.

"Let it go Jason," she said firmly. "You do not have to be brave. No one will think less of you. You do not need to try to supress how you are feeling. Save your strength and let it out."

She was rewarded by hearing a faint whimper from the young man in her arms.

"That's it my love," she encouraged, catching hold of one of his hands with her free one, hoping that by squeezing her hand he would be able to ground the pain a little. "It will be easier on you if you just let it out."

The spasm passed, leaving the young man limp against her once more. He took in a shuddering breath and pulled back slightly so that he could look at Pasiphae properly.

"Sorry," he murmured, his voice still far huskier than anything his mother was used to. "You probably have much more important duties to attend to than sitting here with me. I'll be alright if you want to leave."

The flush on his cheeks grew, although Pasiphae surmised that it was embarrassment rather than rising fever that caused the increase in colour.

"I do indeed have many important duties," she agreed, "but my most important duty is here in this room and if you think I am about to neglect that duty and leave I am afraid you are sorely mistaken."

Jason sighed faintly and nestled in a little tighter to his mother – much to her surprise. There was something very comforting, he decided fuzzily, about being hugged when you were feeling decidedly unwell. The fact that it was _Pasiphae_ that was holding him – that he was cuddled into the side of Atlantis' fearsome Queen – somehow eluded him; right at this moment she was not _the Queen_ only _his mother_ – the mother he had always dreamed of having – and his body responded to her automatically while his mind was too bleary to think clearly.

"You need to drink," Hercules rumbled, hands tracing their own comforting circles on Jason's back. "Pythagoras says it's important."

Jason turned his head to look at the big man.

"Might not hold it down for long," he said.

"No," Hercules admitted, "but you still need to try." He looked at Jason fondly. "You look like something the cat dragged in," he said bluntly. "How do you keep managing to get yourself into so much trouble?"

"Talent," Jason deadpanned.

"Is that what you call it?" Hercules grinned.

Pasiphae listened to the banter between the two men with some surprise. Jason clearly felt awful and yet he was still trying to joke with his friends. She had known he was spirited – it would have been hard for her to fail to notice that over the past few months since he had first appeared in the city – but she had failed to realise just how spirited and determined he could be. Would he still have that fire – that liveliness – if he had been raised in the stultifying air of the Atlantian court? She liked to think so and yet it was just one more thing of which she could never be sure. Think of the present and the future not of the past, she reminded herself firmly. He was here now and she had been granted the chance to build a relationship with him. Yet she couldn't help sigh at the thought of all the lost years.

"What's wrong?"

Jason's quizzical question took the Queen by surprise. She couldn't help the small surge of pride that ran through her. Even in the midst of illness and pain the boy was still perceptive enough to pick up on her mood despite the fact that he did not know her all that well yet.

Before she could respond to Jason's query, however, she was interrupted by the returning Pythagoras arriving with Mnesus in tow. The elderly doctor looked at the young man currently curled up alongside the Queen and frowned slightly, before taking a seat on a stool near the bed and reaching out to feel the lad's pulse once more.

"I'm not going to like what you're going to say am I?" Jason asked, his eyes flickering between the doctor and Pythagoras.

"I very much doubt that you are, Your Highness," Mnesus responded, being very careful to address the young man by his title while the Queen was present and keeping his tone properly deferential.

Jason scowled slightly at the form of address but did not raise an objection, knowing that his mother would potentially punish the kindly old man if she believed he was not showing enough respect.

"I think, however, that feeling the effects of this poison for any longer than you have to is something that you would like even less," the elderly doctor continued. "Because your illness is not natural in cause it will not disappear without help."

"What sort of help?" Jason asked suspiciously.

"As your friend has undoubtedly told you I will need to purge the poison from your body My Lord."

"You want to make me be sick again," Jason stated flatly.

"That is indeed part of it," Mnesus admitted. "I am aware that it is unpleasant for you to experience but it is necessary. In addition I have prepared a poultice to leech the poison directly from the wound and several tonics that will help you to recover. I have one of dandelion, hawthorn and ginger which will increase your need to urinate – thereby purging more of the poison – and one of white willow and verbena to increase perspiration and help relieve the symptoms of fever."

"Sounds lovely," Jason said with heavy irony.

Mnesus winced.

"The treatments required to counteract the poison are harsh, My Lord," he said softly, "but they will work. The rest of this day and night are likely to be uncomfortable but by morning you should feel much better." He hesitated. "There is one final way of removing the poison from your body, Your Highness," he admitted, "although it is not a treatment that I would use without your agreement. There is evidence for its efficacy, however, and in this case I believe that your humours are so disordered that it will be beneficial to aid in the restoration of their balance as well as drawing the poison from your body."

"What treatment?" Jason asked, the suspicious note coming back into his voice.

"I wish to bleed you My Lord," Mnesus said gently.

Jason scooted back on the bed faster than would have seemed possible given his current condition, his progress backwards stopped only by the fact that the imposing bulk of Hercules was in his way, clearly trying to put as much space between himself and the doctor as possible.

"No," he said firmly. "No way."

"Jason there will be no harm in it," Pythagoras said mildly, more than a little surprised by the vehemence of his friend's reaction. "It is a beneficial treatment. I have even done it to myself on occasion when my humours were imbalanced."

"Where I come from we gave up on that idea a long time ago," Jason answered, still trying to get past Hercules. "It's barbaric _and_ archaic!"

"My Lord there is much evidence to support the fact that bleeding a patient aids in their recovery," the elderly doctor murmured. "It is not barbaric and certainly not archaic. It is in fact one of the latest treatments to arrive from Athens… indeed it is no more than ten years since its benefits were realised."

Jason shuddered.

"I don't care," he stated. "There is no way I'm letting any of you anywhere near me with a knife." He paused, groaning as another stomach cramp hit.

"Breathe," Hercules instructed, rubbing his shoulder gently.

"I would not dream of using something as crude as a knife," Mnesus stated, raising an eyebrow. "I have a lancet which may be used or, for preference, leeches."

"And that's supposed to be better?" Jason managed to gasp out, hunching in on himself once again.

He was vaguely aware of being pulled back into his mother's arms as she murmured comforting nonsense into his ears until the spasm passed, leaving him once again sagging against her as the pain robbed him of his strength.

"Do not distress yourself my love," Pasiphae said softly. "The doctor is only doing what he believes to be best and you would do well to listen to him." She drew back enough to look the young man in the eyes. "You cannot go on like this Jason," she stated firmly. "You are ill and in pain and it is your duty to comply with the physician's recommendations in order to become well. I will not have argument in this. You will take the medicine he deems necessary and do exactly as he instructs." The Queen paused for a moment. "I am worried… and I believe that your friends are similarly affected."

Jason sighed. It really wasn't his intention to worry anyone; was something that he avoided wherever possible. He could see the concern brimming in Pythagoras' blue eyes and didn't need to turn to know that Hercules was silently fretting behind him. He didn't even really like the idea of upsetting Pasiphae very much if he were completely honest with himself. For all he had come to the Palace believing that she was no more than a power hungry witch he had discovered over the last few days that in fact his mother was a very complex woman and she had tried to be kind to him while he had been staying here – even if she had been a little inflexible at times. He was willing to admit to himself that he was beginning to develop some sort of a relationship with her – although how far that relationship would develop remained to be seen. Still, upsetting her was not on his to-do list for the day and really he felt too tired and ill to argue in the end – no matter how much he might hate the sound of the 'treatment' and wish for the sort of medicine he had grown up with.

"Alright," he said softly. "Do whatever you think you need to."

* * *

Hercules stared into the slowly dying fire trying to work out whether or not he had the energy to throw another log on. He supposed he really should, if only to keep the room nice and warm for Jason's sake. Outside the wind howled, rattling the storm shutters menacingly, and the rain lashed down, slashing through the empty streets of the city. Even if there had not been a curfew there were few who would venture from the warmth of their homes on a night such as this. The hour was late, or perhaps it should really be described as horribly early. Hercules was usually only aware that this time of night existed during some of his more memorable drinking sessions with Meriones.

The bulky wrestler shuddered as a particularly cold draught snuck in through the shutters and caught at him. Yes another log on the fire was definitely in order he decided, wearily pushing himself to his feet and stooping to collect a piece of wood from the basket alongside the hearth, throwing it on to the blaze before turning to regain his seat. By the Gods he was tired. The evening and early part of the night had been difficult but finally everything was calm and still.

To be honest Hercules hadn't really given thought to just how unpleasant it would be to purge the poison from Jason's system in spite of what the old doctor had said. The young man had been wracked by agonising stomach cramps and muscle spasms that had come with horrible regularity, and the ache of fever and the headache that had come with it had combined to provide a background level of misery that stayed constant between the spikes of pain. Anything had seemed better than that to Hercules, who hated to see his young friend suffering – especially when it was so unnecessary. He growled under his breath. If he _ever_ got his hands on Anaxandros…

Hercules wasn't entirely sure why Jason had objected so much to Mnesus' use of medicinal leeches. From what the big man had witnessed over the past few hours having a few of the blood sucking creatures applied to his forearm was the least distressing of the treatments the lad had had to endure, yet it was the one that he had balked at the most, growing increasingly agitated as the slimy little worms had attached themselves to him. From what Hercules had gathered there was little pain associated with the procedure (or so Pythagoras had assured him even as he was trying to prevent Jason from flicking the things off his arm) but the burly wrestler supposed the thought of having your blood sucked out by anything was unpleasant enough – especially when one was already feeling fairly awful. Eventually, of course, the creatures had become engorged and fallen away, to be scooped up by the court physician, Mnesus, and placed back into his medical kit. The pin-prick bites on Jason's arm had continued to bleed freely even after the leeches themselves were gone. Pythagoras had explained that this was perfectly normal and to be encouraged, even as he cleaned the tiny wounds with fresh water and wrapped his friend's arm in a clean bandage.

Far more distressing for both Jason and those looking after him had been the other treatments that Mnesus had employed to rid his body of the Amphigeneian poison. Hercules now understood only too well why the doctor had described them to Jason as "harsh" – although brutal might have been more accurate. The tonic that the boy had been given before the Queen's arrival had continued to make him vomit (aided by a second dose administered several hours after the first), retching long past the point where his stomach simply had nothing left to give – dry heaves that seemed almost as bad as the cramps that had been afflicting the young man almost from the start. At first he struggled to hold down even the smallest amount of water that the ever patient Mnesus kept pressing upon him but as time went on the urge to throw up had clearly subsided enough to allow him to drink a little.

A second variety of tonic had induced increased sweating – an effort on the part of the doctor to both reduce Jason's temperature and encourage his body to expel a little more of the poison. Everyone in the room understood what he was trying to do of course but it still did not make it any easier for the young man who couldn't help but move restlessly as the sweat dried stickily, leaving him feeling itchy and uncomfortable. It hadn't helped that he had remained feverish in spite of the tonic as well and was clearly hot, in pain, uncomfortable and just generally miserable. Pasiphae had taken over Hercules' usual role, imperiously demanding a bowl of water and a cloth and gently bathing her son's face to try to provide him with some relief.

Hercules paused, staring deeply into the heart of the fire. He wasn't entirely sure what to make of the Queen's presence to be honest. She had never really been loved by the general populous of Atlantis – had been held in fear more than esteem with rumours whispered in darkened corners of her witchcraft and quest for power. Over the past year, largely thanks to the arrival of Jason in their lives, he had come into closer contact with her than he would ever have desired; had witnessed her witchcraft for himself when she had tried to kill Jason in the bull court (and no matter what happened now he didn't think he'd ever be able to forget that or fully forgive her for it); had seen the extent of her thirst for power and had witnessed the extents it had driven her to. The incident with the brazen bull had just been the last in a long line of lies, manipulations and outright cruelties. Neither Hercules nor his two friends knew exactly how Pasiphae had managed to escape the wrath of the King in the aftermath of that fiasco but she was clearly a dangerous opponent to have.

Now though he was being forced to see her in a very different light; to see the woman inside the Queen, desperate for the chance to love the child she had believed had been lost to her forever. He had seen the mother that Pasiphae could have been (had kept hidden inside for so many years); had seen the desperate worry in her eyes at the sight of her son sick and in pain; and knew that he could never go back to seeing her in the old way no matter how much he might want to. Far from being aloof and cold as he had expected, the big man had witnessed the warmth that the Queen reserved for her son. She had climbed up onto the bed next to Jason, appearances be damned, and pulled the young man into her arms, holding him tenderly through the worst of the sickness and pain and trying to comfort him as best she could.

What was even more surprising to the burly wrestler was the way that Jason responded to her ministrations. He was not the most physically demonstrative of young men – of that Hercules was only too well aware – and was certainly nowhere near as openly affectionate as Pythagoras. Both his friends knew only too well that Jason's feelings often ran far deeper than they might appear on the surface but a childhood that had bordered on neglectful and had certainly been lacking in physical comfort had left its mark on him. Over the past few months he had gradually become more comfortable with the concept of showing his affection around the people who he trusted most, and had finally seemed to learn the benefits of a good hug at times of stress or upset – but he still wasn't entirely comfortable with either seeking or giving physical comfort outside his "family". To see him lean into Pasiphae's embrace – to see him nestle into his mother's side – was, therefore, something of a shock. To Hercules' mind it spoke volumes for both how terrible and how vulnerable Jason was feeling that he sought comfort from the woman in this way. Perhaps, though, there was more to it than that. Perhaps it was something that he had no conscious control over; a natural instinct that allowed him to accept his mother's love at a basic level even when his conscious mind could not.

At least the poultice that Mnesus had applied directly to the cut on the lad's throat had not in itself caused too much additional distress. Hercules wasn't entirely sure what it contained and if the smell was anything to go by he really didn't want to know. Throughout the afternoon and into the early part of the night the good doctor had seen that it was applied with admirable regularity, leaving the impregnated cloth in place for a short time before removing it and washing away any residue that was left behind. This was necessary, he had explained, because the ingredients would burn the skin if they were left in place for too long. Jason had informed them promptly that it felt like it was burning even if it wasn't left in place for too long but had made no other complaint. Whatever was in the poultice had done its work, however. The cut had been inflamed when Hercules had first seen it; red and angry looking. Now though it appeared innocuous – no more than a shallow gash that could have had any number of causes and would not take long to heal over. Hercules frowned again. It seemed insane that his friend had been made so unwell by such an innocent looking injury – barely more than a scratch.

The other tonic that the doctor had asked Jason to consume had sent the lad scrambling for the latrine on more than one occasion, his urge to urinate almost uncontrollable. The first time it had happened Pythagoras had tried to prevent him from getting out of bed given how much pain he seemed to be in and how wobbly he was when he attempted to stand, suggesting that a bowl or a pot would be a better option than attempting to make his way across the room to the latrine. In this though he was frustrated by Jason's stubborn nature. Hercules supposed he could understand it. The boy needed to have some control left; needed to be left with some pride. Without making comment the burly wrestler had simply moved over to his young friend and unceremoniously slipped Jason's arm around his shoulders, supporting the lad as he limped over to the toilet and back to bed once he had done his business.

They had repeated the journey far more times than Hercules was willing to think about and each time he had been forced to take a little more of Jason's weight as he grew increasingly tired and weak from both the illness and the treatments. On the final occasion he had not actually been able to make it back to bed even with help. Having managed to do up the lacings on his trousers, his legs had finally given way as, pushed beyond the limits of his own endurance, his exhausted body had decided enough was enough. Lacking the strength at that point to push himself back to his feet, he had been forced to call out to Hercules for help. The burly wrestler, seeing his friend hunched over and miserable, had simply resorted to picking the lad up and carrying him back to his bed. It was perhaps a testament to how far gone Jason was by that point that he hadn't even murmured a complaint. No doubt he would be horribly embarrassed in the morning by which time (hopefully) Mnesus' treatments should have worked and he should be on the mend, but at the time it had been the only sensible option as far as Hercules could see.

As he had come back across the room with his young friend in his arms, the bulky wrestler had spotted Pasiphae staring at him intently; her eyes burning with an expression that Hercules could not identify. He had returned her look with a challenge in his own; daring her to say something; not caring for the moment that he might appear disrespectful or insolent. If she took offence at his actions then he would face the consequences later (although undoubtedly Jason would have something to say to her on that subject if the worst happened and she tried to punish Hercules). For now all that had really mattered to him was the wellbeing of the sick young man in his arms. With that in mind he had carefully – oh so carefully – deposited his cargo on the bed, stopping for a moment to brush the lad's dark curls back from his forehead and to straighten and smooth the blanket over him. Pasiphae had not said a word.

Eventually Jason had fallen into an exhausted doze, which in turn had deepened into proper healing sleep as the poison left his system and the cramps and other symptoms began to subside slightly. At that point Hercules had all but pushed Pythagoras out of the room; forcing the other young man to go and get some rest; mindful of the fact that the young genius was not quite back to full strength following his own recent sickness. Hercules sighed. He had spent far too much time lately sitting up through the night with one of his young friends caught in the grip of illness. Pythagoras had quite naturally protested that he was fine and needed no rest but Hercules had pointed out that he would be needed later to stay with Jason while the burly wrestler took his own rest. Pythagoras had mulled that thought over for a moment before acknowledging the sense in the suggestion (a rare thing as far as Hercules was concerned) and returning to the chambers that the two men were sharing next door. He had, however, extracted a promise from his bulky older friend that he would awake him if he were needed. So far Hercules had not felt the need to follow through with that promise.

Once Pythagoras had gone, the Queen had instructed Mnesus to leave them as well. She was perfectly capable, she had stated, of nursing her own son and as he appeared to be resting relatively peacefully and was clearly better than he had been a couple of hours prior she saw no need for the elderly doctor's continued presence. He would be required to examine Jason in the morning and might have other duties around the court (although none of them would take precedence over the needs of the Queen's son – in that she had been quite clear) and it would not do for him to be so tired that he could not give his best to her boy. Mnesus, knowing that his patient had turned the corner at last and was now on the mend, had taken his leave and returned to his quarters on her command.

That had left Hercules and Pasiphae together in the room with Jason, an uneasy silence hanging in the air. As the young man was sleeping, the Queen had retreated to a chair alongside the bed, stretching forwards to reapply the poultice from time to time or to place a cold compress on Jason's forehead or bathe his face. Jason had managed to sleep on through her ministrations – a fact for which both she and Hercules were grateful. From time to time she looked speculatively at the burly wrestler but, whatever was on her mind, she held her tongue.

Hercules had moved away from the bed some time earlier, taking on the duty of ensuring that the fire was kept going, the storm shutters were firmly in place and a dozen other small tasks which would combine to ensure the comfort of his friend. Just let the Queen try to make him leave, he thought grimly. It didn't matter who she thought she was Jason came first and there was no way Hercules was leaving him right now.

Rousing himself with a shake, the burly wrestler pushed himself up from his seat and moved back towards the bed, collecting the bowl of water that the Queen was using to cool her son and taking it to tip down the latrine. Back at the table near the fire he refilled it from a waiting ewer and returned it to its original place, ready to be used once more. Throughout the whole proceedings Pasiphae watched him with burning eyes.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked calmly.

Hercules jumped. Since the doctor and Pythagoras had left several hours earlier there had been no conversation in the room.

"You'll need fresh water for him My Lady," he answered.

"That is not what I meant and I believe you know it," Pasiphae responded sharply, although her tone was kept low so as to avoid waking her sleeping son.

Hercules sighed. The last thing he really wanted was to be having a heart-to-heart talk with the Queen of Atlantis.

"He's my friend Your Majesty," he answered softly.

"That is not all though is it," the Queen stated with certainty.

The burly wrestler sighed again and sat down wearily on a stool on the opposite side of the bed from Pasiphae, reaching out one hand to smooth out a wrinkle in the blanket covering his friend and scratching the purring Isosceles behind the ears. The kitten had taken up residence as soon as Jason had settled down to sleep, nestling into the curl of his body and trying to provide what comfort she could – apparently sensing that her human was less than well.

"Jason is different," Hercules admitted. "Special… and it's my job to keep him that way; to protect him." He looked at his friend again. "He's been through so much already. Him and Pythagoras both. It never ceases to amaze me that they've both turned out as such caring young men knowing a bit about their pasts. Jason's too naïve – too innocent – for this cruel world really. He still sees the good in everything and everyone. It's part of what makes him who he is… and I'd hate to see him lose that. Somewhere along the way we became a family. I'm too fond of him to see anything happen to him My Lady."

Pasiphae watched him for a moment; her eyes pinning him in place.

"It is hardly appropriate for a prince of Atlantis to maintain friendships with a couple of peasants," she began abruptly.

Here we go, Hercules thought grimly. Here comes the moment when she tries to get us out of Jason's life. Well if the Queen thought that either he or Pythagoras were about to abandon their friend she had another thing coming.

"Nevertheless I have come to believe that you genuinely care for my son and he for you," the Queen went on. "For now that is enough. Whatever may be in the future I will not see him harmed in the present… and if that means that you must remain part of his life then so be it." She fixed Hercules with a hard stare. "I will not tolerate any public disrespect, however. If Jason is willing to take his place as a part of this family then you will remain in the background; will not abuse your position as his friend."

Hercules bristled at what she was suggesting. He would never dream of using Jason's status to gain advantages for himself and knew without a doubt that such a thought would not cross Pythagoras' mind either.

"What if he doesn't want to 'take his place', My Lady?" he found himself asking.

Pasiphae raised an eyebrow at the open hostility in the man's tone.

"That remains to be seen," she answered coolly. "I hope – as does the King – that Jason will see where his duty lies in time. If he does not, however… if he chooses to reject his heritage… Minos has assured me that he will not be harmed… that he will be free to live his life away from Atlantis." A flicker of pain flashed across her face at the thought of losing her son again.

"Exile?" Hercules asked sharply. "You would see your own son exiled?"

"Do not for an instant think that I wish to see Jason exiled," Pasiphae retorted sharply. "But I would sooner that than see him harmed." She paused and closed her eyes for a moment. "There are those both within this city and without who would use Jason for their own ends," she said in a softer tone. "I would wish to protect him from that at all costs. I no more want to see the light inside him dimmed than you do. For now though the future is still to be written; still to be won. The only thing that matters at this present moment is to see him well again."

"Yes Your Majesty," Hercules agreed. "I'd like a few minutes alone with that treacherous Amphigeneian rat though," he muttered to himself.

Pasiphae looked amused.

"In that I believe we are of one mind," she observed. "Although it is hardly appropriate for a peasant to speak of a sovereign king in such a manner. Nevertheless I would see him pay for what he has done." She reached forwards and laid another damp cloth across Jason's forehead.

A pair of heavy lidded hazel eyes blinked back at her in sleepy confusion as Jason, roused from slumber by their soft voices and her gentle ministrations, half woke.

"Go back to sleep Jason," Pasiphae said softly, running a hand gently through his hair. "You'll feel better come morning if you sleep now."

"I already do," the boy murmured drowsily, eyes beginning to drift shut once more. He shifted uncomfortably, face screwing up slightly as the deep ache in his muscles reasserted itself.

Pasiphae frowned and picked up a cup from the table.

"If you are awake then you should drink this," she said firmly.

"What is it?" Jason asked distrustfully.

"A tonic that the doctor left to be given to you if you awoke," his mother answered. "It will take away some of your aches and pains."

Jason sighed but complied with her request, screwing his face up at the unpleasant taste.

"Why do tonics always have to taste so bad?" he asked a little plaintively.

Pasiphae smiled and picked up a second cup.

"Have a little water to take the taste away," she instructed. "The doctor wished you to drink as much as you could. He said that you would need to replenish what you had lost this evening."

Jason sighed again – this time in relief – as the cool water soothed his parched and scratchy throat. Nestling back down amongst the pillows, he allowed his eyes to drift shut once more, sleep claiming him rapidly as his exhausted body relaxed.

Pasiphae sat back with a soft expression. The boy was so docile and tractable while half asleep and looked so young as he slept. She looked up to see his friend trimming the wicks of the lamps, preventing them from smoking too badly and disturbing her son any more. Soon it would be morning; soon dawn's early light would begin to spread its tendrils across the horizon. Jason was here, sleeping, and already so much better than he had been just a few short hours before. Now that her worry was abating somewhat the Queen allowed her mind to turn to grimmer matters, her face hardening as she did. Now it was time to consider her options. Now it was time to make Anaxandros pay.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we now have an air date for the next episode :-) All I can say is "finally"!
> 
> Well on to the chapter. I hope you enjoy this one - don't forget to let me know if you do.......

The pale light of morning was filling the room when Jason finally woke up. He supposed that he should make some sort of attempt to get up but his head still throbbed slightly and his body ached where his muscles had been overworked and abused by the spasms and stomach cramps of yesterday evening. All in all, while he felt decidedly better than he had the day before, he still wasn't feeling particularly well; was tired and sore. The bed felt remarkably comfortable somehow and he wondered whether anyone would notice if he opted to stay here today.

Languidly he let his eyes roam as much of the room as he could see without actually moving, half expecting to see Pasiphae sitting somewhere nearby given her constant presence since he had become unwell and feeling a sudden pang of disappointment that she wasn't. You're being stupid, he told himself; stupid and pathetic. Yet he was still feeling ill enough and vulnerable enough that somehow he couldn't seem to help himself.

"She went to get some rest."

Pythagoras voice startled him out of his self-pity and he turned his head to see the young mathematician sitting in a chair near the bed, a scroll in one hand and a bright smile on his face.

"What?" he asked in some confusion, frowning at how croaky his voice sounded right now.

"Pasiphae," Pythagoras clarified, his smile never dimming. "She was here all night with Hercules. I sent him off to get some rest a little while ago and she left not long after."

Jason tried to persuade his brain to chug forward a gear or two. Thinking made his head ache painfully though so he gave up trying to work out what Pythagoras was talking about pretty quickly.

"Pasiphae and Hercules?" he asked incredulously. "Together?"

"Yes," Pythagoras answered patiently, nodding. "They managed not to kill one another for one night."

"Wonders will never cease," Jason snarked back sarcastically.

Pythagoras' grin widened.

"How are you feeling?" he asked solicitously.

"Sore," Jason answered, rubbing his eyes with one hand. "Tired and achy… but a lot better than last night."

"Good," Pythagoras said firmly. "You worried us last night."

"Sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for," the blonde genius answered. "Nothing that happened yesterday was your fault. Although you do have a wonderful talent for being in the wrong place at the wrong time and the worst luck in the whole of Atlantis I think. I believe that the doctor will be here to check on you shortly but for now I have a tonic that should make you feel a little better. If nothing else it should ease away the aches in your muscles."

Jason grimaced at the thought of the taste but took the cup from his friend without comment. He drained the contents and handed the vessel back to Pythagoras, allowing his head to drop back onto the pillow. Everything felt heavy somehow and all he really wanted to do was go back to sleep. Forcing his eyes back open he looked at Pythagoras with a frown.

"He's going to want me to stay in bed isn't he?" he asked.

"Mnesus?" Pythagoras clarified. "I would imagine so… and if he does not then I certainly will. You were really quite unwell Jason. The dose of poison you received may have been small but it was potent and its effects were severe. You will undoubtedly be feeling them for a few days yet. It is likely that you will find yourself growing breathless and dizzy on exertion and you _will_ tire easily. The only cure for that is rest and recuperation. You are going to need a few days to convalesce. Do as you are told and you will find that you will recover your strength far more quickly."

Jason grinned tiredly at his friend and rolled his eyes. Pythagoras frowned deeply.

"I mean it Jason," he said sternly. "You _must_ rest."

"That rather depends on what happens doesn't it?" Jason answered huskily. His throat was dry and sore and he looked around for something to drink to relieve it.

Pythagoras raised an eyebrow at his friend even as he handed him a cup of cold water.

"We will stick with plain water for now until I am sure that your stomach can hold it," he murmured, "and then perhaps move on to something a little more sustaining later."

Jason nodded his thanks gratefully even as he received the cup and took a long sip from it, sighing as the water relieved some of the ache in his throat.

"Drink slowly," Pythagoras admonished. "I do not want you to make yourself unwell again." He paused and gave Jason a long look. "As for whether or not you do as you are told and rest I must say that I agree with you."

"You do?" Jason asked suspiciously.

"Yes," Pythagoras answered. "It does depend. It depends on whether or not I tell Hercules that you are intending to disobey doctor's orders. I would imagine that you would find it somewhat difficult to get up and run around as though nothing was wrong when he was sitting on you."

The mathematician nearly laughed at the dumbfounded expression that suddenly came across his friend's face.

"That's mean," Jason blurted.

"Yes," Pythagoras agreed, "and underhanded. But I will not hesitate to do it if I see you are about to risk your own health by not resting and allowing yourself to recover properly."

"You misunderstood me anyway," Jason answered. "I didn't mean that I wasn't willing to do what you were telling me. I don't really feel well enough to get up right now to be honest. What I meant though was that whether I'm allowed to stay here and rest rather depends on what Anaxandros does and how quickly he does it. If the Amphigeneians attack I might not get given the time to rest… Minos might decide that he wants me for something else."

Pythagoras sighed. Jason's sense of honour and duty was going to be the death of his friend one of these days.

"Perhaps that is not something that you should be worrying about right now," he murmured gently. "For now you need to concentrate on getting well and nothing else."

"Maybe," Jason conceded. He shifted uncomfortably in the bed as his bladder made itself known. "Listen I know I need to be resting but do you think you could help me get up for a few minutes?" he asked hopefully.

Pythagoras' eyebrows rose nearly into his hairline. He had thought that they had just covered this; that Jason understood the need to stay where he was in bed and allow himself to convalesce properly.

"Jason," he began crossly.

"I only want to use the latrine," Jason said hurriedly, seeing the mathematician's face darkening and envisaging him fetching their larger friend on the spot. "I'll come straight back to bed afterwards. Honestly I don't really feel up to all that much anyway. All I really want to do is go back to sleep."

Pythagoras looked at his friend through narrowed eyes, assessing just how honest he thought Jason was being. After all these months he could usually tell when the brunette was being a little economical with the truth. For now though it seemed that he meant what he said, his eyes wide and hopeful. Pythagoras nodded with some relief.

"Very well," he conceded. "I will agree to a short trip to the latrine and, if you would like, a wash and freshen up afterwards. Then you _will_ be going back to bed."

He looked at his friend again, taking in the too pale features and air of exhaustion that seemed to cling to the other young man. Jason did not look well at all. Keeping him in bed to rest was definitely a good idea.

"Freshening up sounds nice," Jason answered. "I feel kind of sticky." He sniffed the air experimentally. "And smelly," he added with some distain.

With a certain amount of care the young brunette levered himself into a sitting position, frowning at how much his arms trembled and head swam as he sat up. Cautiously he swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat for a minute, trying to fight back the rising tide of dizziness and regain his balance as Pythagoras hovered anxiously. This was ridiculous, he told himself. He'd only really been ill for a short time and it wasn't as if it were all that serious no matter what Pythagoras had said. There was no way he should be this shaky and faint. With renewed determination he stood up, only to clutch at his friend as his head swam, threatening to send him crashing back onto the bed or, even worse, to the floor. After a moment the light-headedness receded somewhat and he pushed himself back from the mathematician, although he did leave one arm wrapped around his friend's shoulders for support.

"Sorry," he muttered.

"Hmm," Pythagoras murmured sceptically. "Are you sure you are up to this?"

"Yeah," Jason responded. "I just had a bit of a wobbly moment, that's all."

"I do not think I have ever heard a grown man say that he has had a 'wobbly moment'," Pythagoras remarked, quirking a smile as the two of them started to make the trek to the latrine.

Jason smiled softly but did not answer, concentrating on simply putting one foot in front of the other. He was so tired. In spite of the urgency of the pressure on his bladder it was all he could do not to ask to go straight back to bed right now. Pythagoras would probably be happier if he peed in a pot anyway. Still he did have some pride left (very little it had to be said) and there was no way that he was going to use anything other than the latrine as long as he had the strength to get there.

As soon as Jason was deposited in the screened off area, Pythagoras made his way over to the door of the chamber. Sticking his head outside, he looked up and down the corridor carefully. A few doors down a young maid was on her hands and knees scrubbing at the tiled floor.

"Excuse me," Pythagoras called.

The maid looked up.

"Is there any chance I could get some warm water to wash in please?" the young mathematician asked. He thought for a moment. "And some clean sheets for my friend's bed?" he added.

The maid bobbed a quick curtsey, eyeing the young man curiously. Like all the servants in this wing of the Palace she had been instructed to treat the young man who occupied the room Pythagoras was peering out of as if he were a member of the royal family itself – although like the other servants she had no idea as to why. Speculation was rife, however, with some truly wild and wonderful theories being discussed. Everyone knew that the young man who was addressing her was a friend of the lad who occupied the room and his requests seemed innocuous enough. Rumour had it that the Royal Physician had spent much of yesterday in the room and there was even a rumour that the Queen herself had been present for much of the day and into the night. The maid knew better than to join in the speculation, however; knew that her position depended on her loyalty and discretion. Without a word, she nodded and turned to make the arrangements that Pythagoras had asked for.

The mathematician shook his head as the girl trotted away. He was reasonably sure that she would do as he had asked. Stepping back inside the chamber he made his way back to the screened off area.

"Are you finished?" he called softly.

"Yeah," Jason's voice came from somewhere behind the screen.

A moment later he appeared, stepping around the partition. At this distance Pythagoras could clearly see the way that sweat was already beading on his forehead and the faint tremor in his limbs that he was trying to counteract. The mathematician frowned.

"You were supposed to wait for me," he said testily, moving to Jason's side and slipping an arm about his friend's waist. "Not attempting to move around on your own."

Jason sighed but put his arm around Pythagoras' shoulders, allowing the mathematician to help him balance. Just the short walk from the bed to the latrine had worn him out but he wasn't about to let anyone know that. It was ridiculous, he decided. He was being pathetic. He ought to be stronger than this not letting a minor illness get the better of him.

"I'm fine," he murmured. "It's not as if I was running a marathon."

Pythagoras' frown deepened with confusion.

"What is a marathon?" he asked.

Jason tensed slightly.

"It's just something from where I grew up," he muttered evasively. "Don't worry about it."

The walk to the small table near the fire was short – only a few steps really – but both friends were grateful to get there. With every step they took Pythagoras couldn't help but notice how short of breath Jason was getting or the way the trembling in his limbs was increasing. It had been a bad idea to let his friend get out of bed at all, he decided. The sooner the bed was remade and Jason tucked up in it the better – and no matter what his protests he wasn't going to be getting up again today, that much was certain.

As the table drew near Jason's vision seemed to tunnel in, grey spots dancing at the edge as he panted faintly, struggling to draw enough air into his lungs. His whole body felt heavy and the pounding in his head had increased exponentially; the sheer effort of keeping himself upright making him feel dizzy and sick. He didn't notice Pythagoras guiding him into a chair, as the young genius rubbed one hand carefully up and down his back and instructed him to breathe.

A faint tapping at the door sent Pythagoras scurrying over to open it. A large, motherly woman bustled in with a set of sheets draped over her arm and a large steaming bowl in her hands.

"Sappho informed me that your bed required making My Lord," she said cheerfully, addressing Jason. "I am Orithyia and it's my job to ensure that you have everything you require and are kept comfortable."

Then she looked more closely at the young man, her face darkening into a frown. There were rumours as to his identity flying around among the servants, although she had chosen not to listen to them until now. Still there was something familiar about him; something that she couldn't quite put her finger on. Right now though the boy looked decidedly pale and peaky she thought, her motherly instincts going into overdrive. The rumour mill had it that the Royal Physician had been seen in his rooms and looking at the lad now she could well believe it. If ever there was a young man who looked like he should be in bed this was it.

Orithyia's eyes strayed to the other occupant of the room – the pale blonde who had opened the door for her. He looked worried. Probably about his companion, she decided. She stepped forwards towards the small table.

"Let me take that from you," Pythagoras murmured, reaching for the bowl of water.

"No need," Orithyia answered, still keeping her tone as light and cheerful as possible. "I'm used to it."

She walked over to the table and deposited the bowl in front of Jason.

"Now," she said with motherly concern, still bustling about, "I'll just get this bed made and you can have a nice little freshen up and then you can be getting back into it." She started to move towards the bed before stopping and turning back towards Jason. "My Lord," she added with a certain amount of chagrin, hoping that, whoever he was, the young man did not take offence at her informal manner of speaking.

The startled look that Jason cast at the servant was almost comical, Pythagoras decided – as was the way he almost automatically responded to her instructions, reaching for the hem of his tunic before realising what he was doing and letting it fall again, blushing at the thought that he had been about to get undressed with a woman in the room.

Orithyia smiled brightly.

"Don't you go worrying about taking that tunic off in front of me," she said. "You haven't got anything I haven't seen before. I've raised four sons and three daughters you know." She paused in her bed making, eyes growing large as she realised just what she had said and just how much offence a noble guest might take. "Just listen to me running my mouth off again," she said to herself. "Take no notice of the babbling of an old woman. My husband, rest his soul, always used to say that I never knew when to shut up. The Queen would have my hide if she heard me talking to a guest like this. Please don't tell her My Lord," she implored.

"It's fine," Jason answered, finally finding his voice. "Don't worry."

Pythagoras couldn't help but frown worriedly at the slightly breathless way he spoke, or the scratchiness of his voice. As Orithyia finished making the bed and glanced quickly around the room, checking for any other jobs that required her immediate attention, the mathematician dipped into the trunk at the foot of the bed and pulled out a fresh nightshirt. It seemed as though Pasiphae had provided an almost inexhaustible supply – although Pythagoras suspected that in actual fact any used clothes were taken by the servants each day and returned to the trunk freshly laundered. This suspicion was at least partially confirmed when Orithyia bent to collect the small pile of clothes she had spotted half peeking out from under the bed and added them to the pile of used sheets she had gathered. She looked speculatively at Jason.

"Should I take your tunic for laundering My Lord?" she asked in a more respectful tone of voice than before.

Jason blushed again but removed the nightshirt he was wearing with a slowness that spoke to Pythagoras of painfully aching muscles and held it out to the servant wordlessly.

"Thank you," he muttered as the motherly woman bustled over and took it from him, immediately crossing his arms over his chest self-consciously.

Pythagoras couldn't help the small grin that rose to his lips. Jason was not usually so bothered about being semi-clothed; had a distinctly relaxed attitude to partial nudity, choosing to wander around their home bare-chested fairly frequently when the weather was warm. It appeared though that he was a little more bashful when faced with an older, maternal woman.

"It is nothing, My Lord," the bustling Orithyia replied with a cheerful smile. "It is my duty." She paused and looked at him clinically. "Is there anything else you require?" she asked.

"No… no thank you," Jason said with some embarrassment.

"Well then I'll go now," the woman responded. "If there's anything else you need later on just you ring the bell and one of us will be along to answer it. It'll probably be me to be honest. The Queen has tasked me personally with looking after your chambers and seeing to your needs. Her Majesty was most concerned that you should be looked after properly." She looked at the basket of wood alongside the fireplace and frowned slightly. "I'll be along in a little while with some more wood," she said turning to look at Pythagoras. "I'm guessing that you'll want to keep a good blaze going."

Pythagoras blinked.

"Yes," he said, casting a quick glance at Jason. "I would like to keep these chambers nice and warm."

"I thought as much," Orithyia answered. "Best to keep him nice and cosy hey?" She looked at Jason again, still not liking the young man's colour. "Don't forget to call for one of us if you need anything My Lord," she admonished as she picked up the bundle of sheets and clothes and bustled back out of the room.

Pythagoras closed the door behind her and turned to Jason with a visible grin.

"Don't say a word," Jason said firmly.

"I would not dream of it," Pythagoras answered. "Although you do seem to be very good at attracting women who want to mother you… it must be the lost little boy look."

"I do not have a lost little boy look," Jason protested forcefully.

"Of course not," Pythagoras responded with his lips twitching. "She did have a point, however," he added. "You really ought to take advantage of that water while it is still warm and then be getting back into bed."

Jason rolled his eyes but picked up the wash cloth and began to sponge himself down. The front half proved no real challenge – although the exertion made him a little breathless. When he got to his shoulders, however, he couldn't help groaning. The aches that had taken up residence in his back, shoulders and neck made it painful to twist too much and his arms felt almost too heavy to lift. In an instant Pythagoras was there, taking the cloth off him and swatting his hands away gently. The young mathematician carefully washed down his shoulders and back, leaving the warm cloth in place across the back of his neck for a few moments to try to ease the overtaxed muscles, before equally gently drying Jason off and slipping the fresh nightshirt into place.

Then he stood and looked sternly down at his friend, trying to channel the authority that Hercules occasionally commanded (when he was relatively sober that was) and gesturing insistently with his arm for Jason to lean on him.

With painful slowness Jason pushed himself to his feet, grabbing the edge of the table as dizziness threatened to overwhelm him again. Unconsciously he swayed, closing his eyes and letting his head drop forwards as the room seemed to spin and dance, lurching alarmingly. Pythagoras reached out and caught him by the shoulders, holding him in place until the moment passed, his blue eyes mirroring his concern. As the brief surge of giddiness faded enough to allow him to function Jason looked up, swallowing hard.

"It's alright," he said breathlessly. "I'm okay."

Pythagoras raised an eyebrow.

"No you are not," he stated flatly. "You are not well… not well at all."

Grasping Jason firmly about the waist Pythagoras began to guide his friend back towards the bed. On arrival Jason all but collapsed back onto the pillows, exhausted and limp. Pythagoras frowned deeply even as he pulled the blankets over his friend, tucking him in securely and adjusting the pillows to be more comfortable. As he began to move back to his chair a gentle grasp on his wrist stopped him and he turned to see Jason looking up at him with heavy lidded eyes.

"Thanks," the young brunette ventured softly.

Pythagoras allowed himself a small smile.

"It is not a problem," he said. "It is never a problem. We are family and it is not so long ago that you were looking after me in a similar manner. Now try to get some rest. Sleeping will allow you to heal quicker than anything."

"I thought you said the doctor would be here soon," Jason said. "I should probably try to be awake for that."

"He will be," Pythagoras answered. "But I see no reason why you cannot rest until he arrives. I will wake you when he gets here."

Jason sighed softly. Sleep really did sound an enticing proposition right at this moment in time. It was all he could do to keep his eyes open now that he was lying down once more. With Pythagoras' approval still ringing in his ears he allowed his eyes to drift closed and drifted away gently to the sound of the mathematician's rustling parchments and the gently crackling fire.

* * *

Pasiphae felt herself much refreshed by the time she made her way into Minos' private study. It was late morning and part of the Queen balked at the idea that she had lost so much of the day already but there really had been no other way. Having spent the night in her son's room tending to him through his sickness she had been beyond tired by the time morning had come around. Still she would have stayed on while Jason slept if relief in the form of Jason's younger friend had not arrived to take his turn at sitting with her son.

It had been a surprise to discover just how forceful Jason's skinny, clever friend could be when he felt the need. From what she had seen of the lad he had always seemed placid and quiet, yet when he had re-entered the room shortly after dawn he had ordered his older fat friend off to get some rest with all the authority of a King who expects his orders to be obeyed. It had been even more surprising when the large man had acquiesced without a murmur. Over the last few days she had been forced to re-evaluate the bonds between Jason and his friends (and never more so than in the last day) but it seemed their ties were even more complex than she had come to believe. The boy had not dared to order her away, or even to suggest that she might wish to leave in order to rest, but the look in his eye had clearly indicated that he had wanted to. Perhaps it was the healer in him, she thought. Mnesus had stated his belief that the lad was a gifted healer and he himself had admitted to her just a few days ago that he was a practitioner of medicine of sorts.

It was also fairly obvious that Jason trusted him where perhaps he would not trust others so easily – even the good doctor. He had accepted treatments and tonics without a murmur when the young blonde had asked him to, despite having balked at the same things just a short time earlier when pressed by the doctor. That was useful to know, Pasiphae decided. There might come a time in the future when it became absolutely essential to persuade Jason of something for the sake of his own safety. If she could obtain the assistance of his friend at that point it might make everything that much easier.

As Jason had seemed much better this morning she had had no qualms about leaving him in the care of his young friend. She knew from discussions with Mnesus the night before that her son would not be well for a few days yet but at least he was now on the mend. However bad yesterday had become he was at least peaceful now. She had smiled softly as she had looked down at her deeply slumbering son, gently caressing the side of his face with one hand. Jason had not stirred. Then she had looked up sharply at his friend and announced haughtily that she would be retiring to seek some rest and would return later. She had left the mathematician in no doubt that were Jason to take a turn for the worse she was to be alerted and brought back instantly.

As she had now had several hours of undisturbed sleep she was left with the pleasant conclusion that nothing could have gone drastically wrong in her absence and so it was that Pasiphae entered Minos' private inner sanctum in a much better mood than she had been expecting.

It was with some surprise that the Queen found her husband in the company of her stepdaughter, deep in conversation. As a rule Ariadne avoided her father's study, perhaps for no other reason than the fact that she knew he did not like to be disturbed here and had little enough privacy anywhere else. Pasiphae had to admit that the girl _was_ thoughtful like that. As Pasiphae entered both occupants of the room looked up expectantly. Minos stood and came around his desk to greet his wife.

"You have rested well Pasiphae?" he asked solicitously.

"Indeed," the Queen responded, moving to sit down on one of the low couches.

"I am glad," Minos said gently, returning to his seat behind the desk. "How is Jason?"

"He seemed a little better when I took my leave," Pasiphae answered. "He was at least sleeping peacefully and his fever had abated. Beyond that we must await the report of the doctor. Last night was… difficult. Jason was in such pain." Her face hardened. "Anaxandros must pay for this," she declared.

"I will not disagree with you in this matter my love," Minos agreed. "His actions have proved that he is not to be trusted. I would see him punished… although how that may be achieved I do not yet know."

A rapping at the door made him turn from his wife to face the door expectantly. The sound was not assured enough to be one of the council of advisors nor diffident enough to be a general servant. A high ranking servant then, someone who occupied a position of authority within the court without actually being a member of it. Remembering that the Chief Physician was to report to them after examining his stepson he smiled confidently, certain of who was on the other side of the door.

"Come," he commanded brusquely.

The door opened slowly and Minos was gratified to see that he had been correct in his assumption as to the identity of the person on the other side when Mnesus stepped through the opening diffidently. Minos spared the man a brief smile. The doctor looked worried, he thought, but then he often did. His concern for the wellbeing of the court in general and the royal household in particular gave his face a constantly harried expression. Now though the King could not help the brief spark of fear that ran through him. If anything had happened to his stepson it would break his wife's heart.

"How is my son Doctor?" Pasiphae's voice rang clearly.

Mnesus paused for a moment.

"Prince Jason is much improved from last night," he answered a little hesitantly. "His fever has gone and the cramps and spasms that afflicted him have abated."

"Thank the Gods," Minos murmured.

"There is more though is there not?" Pasiphae asked suspiciously. She had not failed to notice the hesitation in the elderly doctor's tone.

"Your Majesty…"

Mnesus broke off what he was about to say, his eyes flicking between Minos and Pasiphae. Protocol demanded that he address his comments towards the King and yet he knew that the Queen would demand answers for herself and brook no hesitation on his part. Even now her eyes hardened and she drew herself up imperiously. The elderly doctor swallowed hard and continued.

"The dose of poison that the young Prince received was not as slight as I had at first believed," he admitted. He heard the Queen draw a sharp breath and hurried to reassure her. "The quantity delivered was still not enough to cause permanent harm," he said, "but the effects were more severe than I had been expecting and as a result I believe that his recovery will take a little longer than I had hoped."

"Go on," Minos said, his tone faintly forbidding.

"I have examined His Highness this morning," Mnesus continued. "He is weaker than I would have liked and still has some pain. That was to be expected I am afraid. The spasms that afflicted his body in the night have caused the muscles to be overtaxed. He will undoubtedly ache for a while but it will pass. You witnessed the worst of Prince Jason's illness yourself Your Majesty," he said turning towards Pasiphae. "It should come as little surprise to you to realise that his stomach will undoubtedly be tender for a few days to come. He was most reluctant to allow me to examine his abdomen."

"He refused?" Pasiphae's frown darkened at the thought that she might once again have to do battle with her stubborn son.

"No My Lady," Mnesus said quickly. "The young Prince was reluctant due to the discomfort he was in but he made no attempt to refuse anything I requested." A faint smile touched his lips. "Perhaps it is out of turn for me to say but in truth I find your son to be a delightful young man."

Pasiphae could not help the brief surge of pride she felt at the elderly doctor's words.

"The poison that was used by King Anaxandros was a potent one," Mnesus went on. "It is likely that your son will find himself becoming short of breath when he exerts himself for several days. I find it equally likely that he will suffer dizziness and may experience some nausea as a result. He is very tired at present Your Majesty and his head aches… although I believe he will sleep for most of the day. In truth he had gone back to sleep before I had even left the room. I have left a tonic with his friend to strengthen him and ease any lingering symptoms that he might have." He looked at the Queen thoughtfully. "He will require plenty of rest over the next few days and time to recuperate and regain his strength. The biggest hindrance to his recovery may actually be Jason himself, however."

"How so?" Minos asked with a frown.

"I believe that he will be overly hard upon himself and try to push himself to recover quickly," Mnesus said. "As I turned away to prepare a tonic I overheard the Prince muttering to himself. He was using words like 'pathetic', 'ridiculous', 'childish' and 'weak'. It was clear that he was referring to himself and that far from allowing himself to rest he believed that he should be attempting to simply force himself to get over this. Any such overexertion though will slow his recovery rather than aid it. He will need the time to convalesce properly."

"I will speak with him," Pasiphae murmured. "No doubt I can impress upon him the importance of following your instructions."

Mnesus smiled. The Queen was a formidable woman and he doubted that Jason in his current weakened state would prove too much of a match for her.

"I have no doubt of that Your Majesty," he answered. "I would recommend that your son does not stir from his bed for the rest of today at the very least. I informed the young Prince and his friend of this and told them that I would reassess the situation after breakfast in the morning." He hesitated for a moment. "I believe that there is a good chance he will require further bed rest after that but I felt that it would be prudent to assess the situation again in the morning. I would also recommend that food is kept simple and light for the time being. Perhaps a little broth at midday and something a little more substantial this evening, although I doubt that your son will have much appetite. Other than that I have little in the way of recommendations or advice. Keep him tucked up in bed for the time being, comfortable and warm, and let him rest."

"Thank you Mnesus," Minos said seriously.

The elderly doctor bowed.

"It is my duty My Lord," he murmured.

"And also your calling," Minos responded.

"Indeed," the old man agreed. "If I have your permission to retire I have received word that Lady Myrine requires my attention and was most distressed to learn that I was not immediately available."

"By all means," Minos answered. A faint smile touched his lips. "Although undoubtedly Lady Myrine is suffering from her own overindulgence again."

Mnesus looked startled for a moment. He had not been aware that the King knew of the frequency of Lady Myrine's calls upon his time or the reasons for it.

Ariadne, who up until that point had remained silent, listening to the doctor's verdict and recommendations with growing concern, turned to her father with her concern written on her face.

"Father might I be allowed to visit Jason?" she asked softly. "It cannot be pleasant for him to be ill in a place that is still a little strange and I would like to keep him company for a short time if I may."

Minos frowned and turned to Pasiphae, knowing that any real questions that related to her son's wellbeing must be directed to her.

"That must be a question for the doctor," Pasiphae answered sharply.

Mnesus considered his response carefully.

"I do not believe that Prince Jason is yet well enough to receive many visitors," he answered regretfully. "Perhaps by this evening, if he rests during the day, he might feel sufficiently well to allow a short visit after supper. For now though I would prefer it if his rest were to remain undisturbed."

"You have your answer Ariadne," Pasiphae stated, trying hard to hide the little surge of triumph she felt at the girl's disappointed expression. "And now I believe that we must let the good doctor go about his business and we must return to our duties. You are expected at the Temple are you not?" She gave the girl a meaningful look.

"Of course," Ariadne snapped. "I will abide by your wishes. I would not wish to do anything that might harm Jason."

"As I said it may well be that Prince Jason is indeed well enough to receive visitors by this evening. I will return to check on his progress before supper," Mnesus said gently, feeling the girl's disappointment. "Although I would request that any such visits, if the Prince is well enough, are kept short to allow the young man to rest as much as possible."

"Then I will await your decision," Ariadne said softly taking the kindly old man's hand briefly. She turned to her father. "I must return to my duties," she added. "Perhaps though we could spend a little time in one another's company later?"

Minos took his daughter in his arms and kissed her forehead gently.

"I would like that very much," he answered with a smile.

As Minos spoke to his daughter and the doctor slipped quietly out of the room, Pasiphae sat back on the couch, deep in thought. She had been frightened yesterday – frightened in a way she had not believed was possible – and that discomforted her more than she would have believed. So far her agents had not been able to get close enough to Anaxandros to obtain something personal enough to allow her to employ her _other_ talents but in the wake of what had happened she would see that they redoubled their efforts or faced the consequences. Her relationship with Jason was still so fragile, so new, and the thought that it might never have been allowed to develop any further – might so easily have been snuffed out – by the actions of one man made her shudder. Although his current enforced confinement might increase her opportunities to get to know her son and to develop the sort of relationship she truly hoped they could achieve, the Queen knew that she would not truly be happy until the boy was back on his feet and back to full health. She had been given a second chance to be a mother – truly a gift from the Gods – and she was determined that this time she would not fail. No matter what the cost she would not lose Jason again.

* * *

Somewhere deep within the heart of the Palace gardens a cuckoo called. Pasiphae smiled to herself as she stood in the window allowing the late afternoon sun to warm her face. For a moment she peered at the trees of the Palace orchard, seen in the distance from her vantage point, but quickly realised that there was no way she would be able to pick out the bird amongst the branches. For once in this stormy winter the air was still and the sky completely clear. A feeling of calm crept over Pasiphae as she looked out at the peaceful garden; a feeling of tranquillity that was both rare and welcome. She drank in the sight for a moment longer before turning back to face the quiet room.

She had spent much of the day in the company of Jason's friends which, whilst it had not been comfortable had also not been as difficult or awkward as she had thought it would be. While the men would never – could never – be friends (or indeed even acquaintances) she had managed to put aside her animosity towards them for the sake of her son and had learned a fair bit about them both in the process – even if they had not realised it.

Through quiet observation she had learned that the younger one (whose name she had finally learned was Pythagoras) was remarkably clever – even more so than she had suspected. He was logical and rational and appeared to be able to turn his quick mind towards anything, although mathematics seemed to be his natural forte. He was quiet and studious and seemed to be fairly sedentary in his tastes. For a moment Pasiphae had wondered how he had ever managed to become friends with her clearly more athletic and possibly far livelier son. Pythagoras, she had also learned, quite obviously loved his friends deeply – loved them as family – and would do anything to ensure their comfort and continued good health. She had seen for herself the worried little frown the blonde sent in Jason's direction every so often as he pottered around the room and the dozen or so small tasks that he undertook without comment to try to ensure his friend's comfort.

The big one on the other hand was loud, grumpy and boastful. She must have heard his name at some point – probably several times – but somehow she just could not seem to remember it. His manner of caring was curt and gruff but it was belied by the gentle way he helped his friends – pulling a worried Pythagoras in for a brief one-armed hug or tucking the covers back around Jason without waking him.

He had dragged the young mathematician out for some fresh air a short while ago now leaving Pasiphae alone with her son, casting a hard and suspicious glance in the Queen's direction as they had gone. Pasiphae smiled wryly. What exactly did the older man expect her to do to a sleeping boy? As Mnesus had predicted Jason had slept for most of the day; only waking for brief periods. Pasiphae's wry smile drifted to a frown. As suggested she had arranged for some broth to be brought for his midday meal but Jason hard scarcely managed to consume a quarter of the bowl; had no appetite to speak of. Seeing him so tired and listless was a shock. She knew of course just how ill he had been in the night and yet somehow she had clung to the vain hope that he would simply bounce back from it in the light of morning. She sighed softly to herself as she looked at her son.

Jason was stretched out on the bed, fast asleep, one arm curled languidly above his head and one foot wriggled out from beneath the covers. He was still far too pale for his mother's comfort and dark smudges bruised the skin beneath his eyes. At least he seemed peaceful she supposed and the afternoon sun bathed his face in soft light, catching the highlights in his dark hair and dancing across his slim form. With a gentleness she had rarely had cause to use Pasiphae popped his wayward foot back into bed, tucking the blankets around his legs a little more securely, determined that he would stay warm. Assuring herself with a quick glance at the young man's face that he still slept in spite of her actions, she stepped away from the bed once more and seated herself near the fire, idly picking up a scroll from the table and perusing it absently.

It was not many minutes later that the sound of murmuring disturbed Pasiphae from her reading. The scroll itself was one that she had brought with her. It was not exactly thrilling reading – being little more than an inventory of the Palace stores – but it was her duty to oversee it and ensure that nothing was amiss. For a few moments the mumbling continued before cutting off completely. Pasiphae did not bother to look up from the scroll, although she did frown at the interruption. Undoubtedly what her sharp ears had picked up was the sound of someone speaking as they had gone past the chamber, their voice muffled by the thick walls. It was somewhat surprising that she had heard whoever it was at all – the depth of the wall deadened most of the sound from the corridor – she could only imagine how loudly the person had been speaking. Given the fact that Minos hated to hear raised voices within his home she could only hope that the loud individual would run into the King at some point. It was petty of her to be sure but Pasiphae hated to be disturbed.

As she settled back to her reading, however, the murmuring started again. This time it was a little louder than before and Pasiphae looked up with irritation. As she started to get up, fully intending to find the noisy individual she felt sure must be in the corridor outside the chamber, she glanced across at the bed to make sure that Jason had not been disturbed. She didn't really expect that he would have been to be honest. His sleep had been heavy; exhaustion taking its toll. His younger friend had somewhat diffidently informed her that that was unusual. Apparently Jason tended to be a light sleeper usually; easy to disturb with the slightest noise. She had been told that the only times his friends had ever really seen him sleeping heavily was when he was ill or injured. Somehow that statement had failed to reassure her.

Now as she glanced at him she paused. It appeared that the murmuring was not coming from outside the room at all. Far from the deeply peaceful slumber she had been expecting and that he had been having on and off all day, Jason was tossing lightly and muttering to himself in his sleep. Pasiphae moved towards him, unsure of what to do. Did she wake him and risk disturbing what was clearly much needed rest? Or should she leave him be knowing that his rest might be less that restful? As she approached he stilled, the constant murmuring fading away, and Pasiphae breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps he would return to deep sleep now. She didn't really want to have to wake him yet. Soon enough the doctor would be dropping by to decide whether Jason was well enough to receive visitors but Pasiphae saw no reason to wake him too early.

After a moment though, Jason began to toss once more, murmuring words so quietly that even the Queen's sharp ears couldn't quite pick them up, his breath coming faster and brow furrowing with something that to Pasiphae looked suspiciously like distress. She could not – would not – see him upset right now if there was any way she could prevent it, and so she stepped forwards once more, intent on rousing and comforting her son. Before she could reach the bed, however, the decision was taken out of her hands as, with one strangled half gasp, Jason's eyes flew open and he pushed himself into a half sitting position, leaning on his elbows. He closed his eyes briefly as he tried to regain control of his ragged breathing.

Without even thinking about it Pasiphae slipped onto the bed behind him, pulling the boy into her arms and resting his head against her shoulder.

"Breathe," she said softly, running her hands comfortingly up and down his arms. "Just breathe Jason… nice deep breaths… in and out. Just be still and it will grow easier. I promise you that."

For a few minutes she held him tight against her, feeling his breathing slow and return to normal as he calmed down. Eventually he pulled away from her, sitting forwards and scrubbing his hands across his face. Letting him go, Pasiphae slid back off the bed and came around in front of him, perching on the edge of the bed once more. Jason blinked at her for a minute and then scooted back on the bed until he was sitting with his back pressed against the wall.

"Sorry," he muttered, turning his face away with faint embarrassment.

Pasiphae hesitated for a moment.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," she answered. "You cannot help it if your sleep is troubled by nightmares."

Jason looked towards the window for a moment, catching his lower lip between his teeth and worrying at it, before remembering his mother's antipathy to such an action and deliberately releasing it again.

"It wasn't exactly a nightmare," he said trying to explain. "Although… I suppose it was in a way. It was disturbing more than anything."

"Perhaps it would be helpful to discuss it," Pasiphae said gently.

She could not miss the guarded expression that came into Jason's hazel eyes and supressed a sigh. Clearly he did not yet trust her enough to talk about something as personal as his dreams.

"It was just a dream," he responded. "Nothing to be worried about."

The silence that grew between them could hardly be described as comfortable. Presently Pasiphae roused herself and looked at Jason with a stern expression.

"Well then," she said. "If that is indeed the case then I believe you should be attempting to get some more rest."

Jason sighed.

"I'm not all that sleepy at the moment," he admitted. "I'm a bit too awake."

Pasiphae frowned with displeasure. She did not say a word, however; merely stood and collected a spare pillow from the far side of the bed. Stepping to the top of the bed she motioned her son to sit forwards and then plumped the pillows behind him, adding the one she carried to the pile and pushing him back gently to rest against them. Then she turned her attention to the blankets that covered his lower half, pulling them higher and tucking them securely around his legs. Jason might be determined to sit up for a while but she was equally determined that he would do so in comfort and would not be exposed to any potential drafts. Task done she moved to sit down in a chair alongside the bed.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

Jason considered it for a moment.

"Better actually," he said. "Not quite so dizzy when I sit up as I was this morning."

Pasiphae raised an eyebrow.

"At least the rest and tonic appears to be having a beneficial effect on you," she remarked.

"So how long do I have to stay here?"

"I was lead to believe that the doctor had informed you that he would reassess your condition in the morning," Pasiphae answered sharply. "Until such time as he and _I_ deem you fit you _will_ remain in that bed."

Jason rolled his eyes and sighed.

"I don't do well if I'm cooped up," he argued. "I've already spent more time in bed lately than is really good for me."

"And now you will spend a little more time in it until you are deemed well enough to be up and around," Pasiphae snapped.

"I'm fine," Jason insisted. "It's not as if I've been seriously ill or anything… I'm not feeling totally well yet but I need to get back to normal. I can't see that lounging around here is going to do that and I know there are things I'm supposed to be doing. Surely sitting up for a bit wouldn't hurt all that much."

He turned appealing eyes on his mother. Pasiphae, however, remained unmoved. She fixed Jason with a hard stare, taking in the pallid face, the slightly breathless way he was speaking and the way his arms trembled faintly as he moved himself in the bed.

"When you can stay awake for longer than a few moments we can talk of this again," she said abruptly. "Mnesus informed the King of his belief that any overexertion on your part would hinder your recovery. You are not well enough to be anywhere other than that bed and that is an end to it."

Jason glared back at her mutinously, irritated by her assumption that she would be obeyed. Why did no-one in this dratted city seem to understand that he was perfectly capable of looking after himself? That he knew his body better than anybody? In the past when he had been ill getting back on his feet had been the number one priority; after all there had been no-one else around back then to get him a cup of water or make sure he took his medicine – he had had to rely on himself. _But isn't it nicer this way?_ A traitorous little voice inside him asked. _Doesn't it feel nicer to be looked after? To have people who care that much about you?_ Jason hesitated. Being alone and ill had never exactly been pleasant, it had simply been a fact of life.

He eased himself in the bed as he thought, unable to stop the faint groan that made its way out of the back of his throat as his body protested the movement painfully. If he were being honest with himself he did still feel fairly poorly – although he had been telling Pasiphae the truth when he said he felt better than before. At his soft little moan Pasiphae's frown had deepened and she stood and began to make her way back across the room. Jason watched her go with distinctly mixed feelings. Was she leaving? Much as he objected to being told what he could and couldn't do, he still found her presence strangely comforting; had looked for her whenever he woke up and been childishly disappointed if he hadn't been able to see her. It was the loss of independence he objected to rather than the care and attention.

The Queen did not head for the door, however. Instead she made her way to the table by the fire and then turned, coming back towards the bed with a cup in her hands.

"This will strengthen you and relieve some of the discomfort you are trying not to show," she stated firmly, holding the cup out to Jason. "Please," she added, her tone softening noticeably. "There is no need for you to suffer Jason."

Jason looked at the cup rebelliously for a moment, knowing that the contents would taste downright terrible. Part of him didn't want to give Pasiphae the satisfaction of admitting that she was right; of admitting that he really still felt too unwell to get up. But oh he did feel ill and she did look worried. That last thought brought him up short. Of all the things he had ever dreamed of seeing the Queen of Atlantis staring at him with barely concealed worry was not one he would have imagined. Right now though she wasn't acting as the Queen. She was acting as his mother. With a faint sigh that had far more to do with illness than rebellion Jason took the cup and drained it, letting himself fall back amongst the pillows and then almost instantly wriggling to try to find a more comfortable position.

His mind really was too busy to let him go back to sleep right now and yet his body still felt drained; everything still felt so heavy and exhaustion seemed to linger. With languid eyes he turned to watch his mother peacefully. Pasiphae had picked up a scroll that rested on the small table standing alongside the bed and was perusing it absently. With a start Jason realised that it was the parchment he had been reading the other night – one that he had asked Pythagoras to get for him that contained a brief description of the Gods and their main attributes. Without knowing quite why he suddenly felt dreadfully embarrassed.

Pasiphae glanced curiously from the parchment to her now furiously blushing son.

"I thought I probably ought to try to learn something about the Gods," Jason muttered, barely audibly, his head ducked and his cheeks burning.

Pasiphae couldn't help the soft, affectionate smile that came to her lips. Jason had been trying to learn something about their society without being pushed or asked to; had wanted to learn something about their way of life and beliefs.

"Where you grew up they did not believe in the Gods then?" she asked casually.

"There _was_ religion," Jason answered quietly, his head still ducked down. "It just wasn't the same as yours… and now I'm here I thought maybe I ought to try to learn a bit more about Atlantis. About what you believed in."

He frowned at how childish that sounded to his own ears. Pasiphae's smile widened slightly. She looked down at the parchment in her hands.

"This scroll is somewhat dull," she remarked. "If you truly wish to learn then I would be happy to teach you."

Jason looked up at her in surprise. Somehow he had thought that she would be upset at his ignorance of her beliefs not understanding and certainly not that she would offer to teach him. He nodded softly.

Pasiphae stood up from the chair where she had positioned herself and came back to the head of the bed, seating herself alongside him comfortably. Without really thinking about what he was doing Jason drew a little closer into her side, resting his head against her shoulder, feeling oddly content. Pasiphae looked a little startled but slipped her arm around his shoulders, drawing her son into her side and feeling a surge of pure maternal joy as he nestled there.

"Very well," she murmured. "Let us begin with Poseidon."


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Sorry for the delay in the publication of this chapter. I wish I had a good excuse but in actual fact the words simply haven't been coming recently. I do hate writers block!
> 
> Anyway thank you to those of you who are still reading. I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint too much. Let me know what you think anyway.

Jason looked up from the scroll he was reading with some surprise as a cup clanked down heavily onto his bedside table and a throat was pointedly cleared, and suppressed a sigh. The bulk of Hercules loomed over him and, as Jason looked up, folded his arms and glowered slightly. Jason mentally sighed again and put the scroll to one side, dutifully taking the cup that Hercules had banged down on the table and drinking the contents with as much meekness as he could muster, trying to keep himself from grimacing too much at the taste. Really would it be too much to ask for a tonic not to taste like it had been drawn straight from a bog for once? He approximated what he hoped was a smile of thanks at his big friend and picked up the scroll again, fully intending to return to his reading. He was therefore somewhat surprised to find the parchment plucked from his fingers and looked up again to find Hercules' broad face had darkened even further.

"Rest time," the burly wrestler announced with a growl.

"Hercules I've done nothing but rest for the last day and a half," Jason protested mildly.

For the most part it was true. Having spent much of the previous day sleeping and most of the evening curled into his mother's side listening to her stories of the Gods, Jason had woken this morning feeling a lot better. That wasn't to say he felt exactly well yet but he certainly wasn't feeling anywhere near as ill as he had. Still when Mnesus had visited after breakfast he had been adamant in his instructions that Jason should spend at least one more day in bed and that he should rest as much as possible until the last symptoms of the poisoning were gone. He had also warned Jason that the strain placed upon his body by the poison could have serious consequences if his instructions were not adhered to. Much as the young man's active nature meant that he chafed at the restrictions, Jason did have to admit to himself (although never out loud) that the longer he stayed in bed the better he felt.

His improving health had also meant that Pasiphae had felt able to return to more of her duties and leave him to his own devices. It was odd, Jason mused, how nice it felt having her around. Less than a week before he would have laughed at anyone who told him that one day he would enjoy spending time in the company of the Queen, but as the days passed he was seeing her less and less in that role and more and more in the role of his mother. Still her departure this morning had left him on his own for a short time which in some ways was a blessing. Before coming to Atlantis he had been by nature a solitary sort of person, quiet and reserved, and sometimes the constant presence of people around him here grated on his nerves a little. It wasn't as though he could slip out for some time alone at the moment either; he had a feeling that he might draw the wrath of both the King and Queen if he tried and would certainly earn one of Hercules' awkward lectures.

It didn't mean though that he had been willing to stay in bed _all_ the time. Once Pasiphae had gone Jason had felt the need to get up to use the latrine and had decided to freshen up again before he went back to bed. True the water in the jug on the table would be cold but it wasn't as if he hadn't had to wash in cold water before – what harm could it really do? Getting up on his own had been… interesting. Jason frowned at the thought. He had been fully prepared to feel a little shaky on standing given how awful getting up had made him feel yesterday, but he had been unprepared for just _how_ weak and wobbly he would feel. Sitting up in bed he no longer felt dizzy the way he had yesterday morning and had naively believed that the same would hold true when he was completely upright. As it was he had ended up grabbing onto the wall and holding on for dear life until the room had stopped spinning quite so much and he no longer felt like heaving up the contents of his stomach.

With grim determination he had made it to the trunk at the end of the bed. Just because he had been told to stay in bed didn't mean he was happy to lounge around in his nightclothes – especially since the doctor had told him that Ariadne had requested permission to visit at some point today. Apparently she had wanted to come to see him yesterday but the decision had been taken that he was too unwell to see her. Jason's frown deepened a little. Much as he would have liked to argue he had a horrible suspicion that Mnesus had been right – he really had felt too ill to want to see anyone and the thought that Ariadne might have seen him in that state made him shudder. Now though he had once again been deemed well enough to receive visitors – albeit with the instructions that they were to leave when he grew tired.

Bending forwards to the trunk he had nearly overbalanced as another wave of dizziness had hit him and he had ended up sitting back down on the edge of the bed for a moment to try to regain his equilibrium. Having grabbed the first tunic that came to hand (fortunately not something too formal) he had pushed himself up and limped over to the table, concentrating on countering the wobble that he still felt in his legs. After a short pause to get his breath back he had made it to the latrine and back to the table with little trouble. It was true that he was growing increasingly light headed and just couldn't seem to draw enough breath but he decided that that was probably only to be expected and if he just pushed on through it everything was bound to be alright. In actual fact he probably wouldn't have been so certain if he had been able to see himself – had seen just how pale he had become or how unsteady he looked – but the dizziness meant that he had hardly been thinking clearly at that point.

The cold water he had splashed onto his face had revived him somewhat and the brief sit down had at least allowed him to largely regain his breath. Even so he had felt more than ready to get back to bed; to rest back against the soft mattress and close his eyes for a bit until the dizziness and resultant nausea disappeared again. Pushing himself to his feet carefully Jason had determinedly ignored the way his head swam and begun to limp slowly back across the room, focussing completely on just getting to the bed and gritting his teeth as he fought to maintain his balance and put one foot in front of the other. He had gone no more than two or three short steps when the door had opened unexpectedly, causing him to spin around in surprise – or at least to _try_ to spin around in surprise. In fact moving so quickly had caused him to stumble, his vision darkening as the giddiness had threatened to overwhelm him completely.

As he had come back to himself and become more aware of his surroundings, Jason had been surprised to discover that he had still been on his feet and had not ended up in a heap on the floor. In fact the more aware he had become the more he had realised that the reason he was still upright had been because someone was holding him there; someone with strong arms and breath that stank of cheap wine, onions and garlic. Hercules. Jason had glanced up blearily into his friend's face and known instantly that Hercules was not at all happy at having to catch him like this. He had winced slightly at the forbidding expression on the burly wrestler's face and allowed himself to be assisted into bed, where Hercules had proceeded to tuck him in almost aggressively while remaining eerily silent.

Jason had expected at the very least to be on the receiving end of one of Hercules' lectures so the silence had been unnerving to say the least. It had lasted until well after the midday meal (which Jason had _tried_ to eat despite lacking an appetite just to please his friends) and had only been broken now with Hercules' declaration that Jason needed to rest.

The older man folded his arms and glowered at Jason.

"I was only going to read for a while," Jason went on. "Not do anything strenuous."

"And now you're only going to lie down and close your eyes for a while," Hercules growled insistently. "You're still poorly and a short nap will do you good."

"Hercules…"

"Jason you might not be concerned about your own welfare but the rest of us are," Hercules grated. "The Gods know you don't have the common sense you were born with and that makes you damned hard to look after and protect, but if you think I'm just going to stand by and let you go about your merry way risking your own health then you've got another thing coming."

Jason frowned.

"I don't need you to protect me or to look after me," he protested.

Hercules snorted.

"You've _always_ needed looking after," he growled. "You've always rushed headlong into things without thinking of the consequences to yourself. You almost wilfully disregard your own wellbeing even when you're told how risky something might be and I for one am sick of it. This morning was the last straw Jason. You've been told that you're not well enough to be out of bed; you've been told that pushing yourself could stop you recovering as quickly; you've been told that you need to rest and let the breathlessness and the dizziness subside in their own time… and I happen to know that you were told that overexerting yourself too soon could cause unreasonable strain on your heart; could damage it. Pythagoras told me."

"He said that that was a very faint risk," Jason protested. "That it was extremely unlikely."

"But it is a risk," Hercules argued loudly, "and one that you are _not_ going to take. You know all this and yet I still found you out of bed this morning and had to catch you before you hit the floor. That won't be happening again. So help me if I have to stay here and sit on you I will."

"I'm sorry," Jason muttered. "I made a mistake. I felt so much better than yesterday and I needed to use the facilities and I thought I could do it and get back to bed without bothering anyone. Once I was up though I didn't feel quite as well as I'd thought."

"You're _always_ sorry," Hercules pointed out with a weary sigh as he sank down onto the bed. "But you being sorry doesn't fix anything because you never learn. Why can't you just for once in your life do as you're asked? One of these days I swear I'm going to turn you over my knee and tan your backside."

Jason shot him a startled but suitably contrite look – he hoped.

"I just don't want to let anyone down," he confessed softly, gnawing his lip. "I don't want to be a burden."

Hercules sighed again.

"You've never let anyone down," he answered, "and you're certainly not a burden." He shook his head ruefully. "I know it's still hard for you to believe but you have people who care for you now; people who worry about you… not that _I_ worry you understand… and your life and health are important to us… I mean to them."

"You shouldn't worry about me," Jason murmured. "I'm not really worth…"

"Don't you _dare_ finish that sentence," Hercules interrupted sharply, his face darkening deeply. "You might not think lot of yourself but the rest of us think a hell of a lot of you… and if I _ever_ get to meet any of the people who made you believe that you were worthless then I'll make them wish they were never born."

Jason couldn't help the shy smile that crept across his lips. The chances of Hercules ever meeting anyone from his former life was non-existent but it meant more than Jason was willing to admit even to himself that the big man felt that way.

"Thanks," he said wriggling back down the bed until he was lying down and watched Hercules' broad face morph into a smile at his acquiescence.

The big man smoothed the blanket gently over his young friend's legs and adjusted the pillows to be a bit more comfortable.

"Rest," he said gently.

"I _am_ tired," Jason admitted. "But I'm not all that sleepy yet."

"Alright," Hercules responded. "Then how about a round or two of dice? You won't have to think too hard about it and you can stay lying down and resting."

He didn't add that if Jason happened to fall asleep halfway through (as he suspected might be likely looking at how tired his friend still looked) the dice could be cleared away without too much fuss.

"That sounds good," Jason answered.

"Good," Hercules said, reaching inside his tunic to find his dice and settling himself comfortably into a chair to start their game.

* * *

"Pasiphae."

Minos' voice stopped the Queen in her tracks as she glided gracefully down a corridor, returning from a visit to the Temple, still wearing her winter cloak which billowed around her heels. The wind was colder than ever today and reminded Pasiphae to make sure that a warm cloak had been provided for her son's use. Whilst it was true that Mnesus had left instructions for bed rest to continue for today it would undoubtedly not be long before Jason was back on his feet and she had the feeling that keeping him confined to the Palace for too long would prove nigh on impossible. The boy was simply too active to allow himself to be kept indoors – even when it might be better for him to remain inside. Perhaps a compromise would be the best way to go. As soon as both she and the doctor deemed him well enough – and she would accept no arguments on this point – she would permit him to go outside for short periods as long as he was wrapped up against the current bad weather.

The thought made her frown though. She had never believed that she would be a weak mother – that she would indulge her son's every whim; had always believed that it was the duty of a child to obey their parents without question (and certainly without argument); and had despised those parents who routinely gave in to their children and allowed them to do what they wanted, thereby showing their own weakness to the world. So was compromising with Jason not showing the same sort of weakness? Was she turning into the sort of overly indulgent mother she had always hated? No, she decided. She simply knew when to pick her battles. Jason _was_ somewhat wilful and more than a little stubborn (the results of a clearly neglected upbringing she decided) but he had also proved to be eager to please and pleasingly quick to learn. Compromise did not weaken her position as his mother – it merely strengthened their relationship; their bond.

The suddenness and severity of his recent illness had frightened her – frightened her more than she would have been willing to believe. The thought that he could so easily be taken from her made her shudder as a sudden icy chill went down her back and made her more determined than ever to ensure that Jason stayed by her side no matter what the cost; she simply could not bear to lose him again – and if that meant battling with him to ensure that he did not take unnecessary risks until he was fully well then so be it.

The way he had turned to her in the midst of his illness – the way he had accepted (and at times actively sought) her comfort – had amazed her. For the first time since he had been stolen from her so many years ago she had truly felt like a proper mother again; had felt like _Jason's_ mother. Just a few short days ago he had come back into her life properly; just a few short days ago he had unconsciously hurt her when he had told her that he could not think of her as his mother – yet his actions over the last couple of days had belied his words.

Yesterday evening had been a case in point. Jason had had no reason to curl up against her – no reason to seek out physical affection. It was true that he was still clearly feeling unwell – _was_ still unwell – but he was nowhere near as ill as he had been and his basic desire for independence – his spirit – was already reasserting itself. Under the circumstances she would have expected him to reject her embrace; to want to hide any weakness he felt. It would certainly have seemed more in keeping with his character. Yet the truth was that when she had seated herself on the bed (so as to be more comfortable herself) he had chosen to nestle against her and rest his head on her shoulder, allowing her to embrace him as she wanted.

The quiet moments they had shared had made Pasiphae remarkably happy. There had been no hint of Jason's usual reservation or guarding in his eyes as he had looked at her – no hint of mistrust – instead he had watched her peacefully, quietly listening to every word she said. Despite the fact that the young man at her side was plainly an adult (although Pasiphae did wonder at times just how "grown up" her son actually was) for a moment she had been reminded of the trusting little boy who had fallen asleep in her arms more times than she cared to remember; the baby who had looked up at her with sleepy eyes and who had been the absolute heart of her world.

Perhaps she should have been angry and ashamed at his lack of knowledge of the Gods and of her beliefs; perhaps he had even expected her to be. Yet what had struck her most was that he had been trying to learn – trying to educate himself – without anyone asking him to do it. Deep down Pasiphae knew that he was doing it at least in part for her whether he acknowledged the fact or not. It gave her a warm glow inside and made up for any deficiencies in his education. The fact that Aeson had taken the boy to a land so far away that he didn't even possess the most basic knowledge of the Gods still horrified her. To remove Jason so far from his roots – from his heritage – was an act that even now she simply could not comprehend.

Now though she waited for her husband to catch up with her with well concealed impatience. Her day had been far from fruitless but as it drew to a close she found herself longing to see her son; begrudging the time she had been away from him. It would have been different if Jason were fully well, she decided. Then she would not find her mind conjuring up all sorts of dire situations. She knew he was well on the road to recovery – had seen it for herself – and yet she could not help the irrational fear that briefly overcame her that he might have suffered some sort of relapse in her absence.

None of that fear was present on her face when Minos joined her, however. Instead she allowed a soft smile to grace her features – the expression of a dutiful wife. Minos, she noted absently, was dressed in his informal brown robes; robes that were never seen at public occasions but were worn at home for his comfort. They did not have the imposing grandeur of his state finery but were more comfortable and more practical for day-to-day wear. That the King was wearing them now, more than anything else, told Pasiphae that his official duties were done for the day.

"My Lord," she greeted him.

"How is Jason?" Minos asked gently. "I have not had the time to enquire today."

"He was much improved when I left him this morning," Pasiphae answered. "The Royal Physician visited shortly after breakfast and was pleased with his progress. Mnesus has ordered bed rest today but believes that Jason will be well enough to leave his bed tomorrow. He has also deemed the boy well enough to receive visitors, although only as Jason's condition dictates. Jason is still lacking in strength, is very weary… no matter how he might try to conceal it… and in a little discomfort due to a shortness of breath. Still, he is on the mend… a fact for which I thank the Gods."

"We have much to be thankful for," Minos agreed. He hesitated a moment before continuing. "Perhaps you would permit me to visit him with you," he said softly. "I would not wish to disturb the boy's rest by staying for long but given the circumstances surrounding his illness I would like to assure myself of his recovery personally."

Pasiphae was startled, although she hid it well. Given Minos' position and nature it was more in character for him to decide when he wanted to visit someone and inform her rather than asking. It was interesting that he clearly believed that her authority in matters that concerned her son superseded his own. Without knowing why she felt a little surge of gratitude towards the man.

"Of course My Lord," she responded smoothly. "If you would allow me to divest myself of my outer attire and to refresh myself first I would be grateful."

"There is no rush," Minos answered magnanimously. He looked thoughtfully at his wife. "Your duties at the Temple extended through the supper hour," he remarked.

"I am sorry My Lord," Pasiphae tried to keep her tone even and dutiful despite the little surge of irritation she felt.

She knew how important it was to Minos that he and she and Ariadne (and latterly Jason) sat down to the evening meal together. There were times, of course, when one or the other of them were absent for some reason, but it never failed to upset the King when that happened and was something that she tried to avoid wherever possible. Now though she found herself annoyed at the implication that she should have been there – if she had not been at the Temple she would have chosen to be with Jason and not at the supper table and nothing Minos could have said would have dragged her away.

"You misunderstand me my love," Minos murmured. "I was not rebuking you for your absence. In these troubled times we all have additional responsibilities and sometimes we must forgo our normal routine. Had you finished your tasks earlier and chosen to spend your supper with your son I would have understood. The day has been long and you have been absent from his side for much of it. It would only be natural that in the light of recent events if you wished to assure yourself of his wellbeing… No I merely meant to suggest that a light supper might be provided for you in your chambers and that I would request that the servants brought them to you while you were refreshing yourself. Then you might return to Jason fully refreshed and in a short time."

Pasiphae blinked in surprise. There were still times, even after all these years, when her husband's thoughtfulness could catch her unawares.

"Thank you," she said with genuine gratitude, touching his arm with one warm hand.

"Then it is decided," Minos declared with a smile. "Go ahead and refresh yourself and I will arrange for food to be brought."

* * *

Pasiphae felt much better as she approached her son's room a short while later. Minos had been right, she mused; she had needed some food to balance her properly. With her husband at her side she came to the door of Jason's chambers and paused, raising her hand to rap sharply on the door. As she did so, light and happy voices came through the door and she hesitated, listening. Beside her Minos stiffened, his face darkening into a frown.

"Stop it! You're being naughty." Ariadne's voice was full of laughter in spite of her apparent protestation.

Pasiphae froze, stiffening even more as she heard her son's answering chuckle. She knew of Jason's feelings towards Ariadne and was well aware that they were reciprocated, but surely they wouldn't have been stupid enough to do anything improper under Minos' roof? Surely Ariadne at least would understand the proprieties of the situation and would act with appropriate decorum? She had believed that even Jason would not be so stupid; that he would at least possess enough common sense not to imperil the virtue of the King's beloved daughter; that he would have more honour than that. The more she thought about it the more her blood began to boil. This one act by a pair of _foolish_ _children_ (for she could think of no other words to describe her son and stepdaughter right at this moment) could jeopardise everything. Much as her husband had seemed to begin to be developing a certain amount of respect for his stepson and clearly did not want to see the boy harmed (and increasingly appeared to wish the claim Jason as part of their family), she knew that if the choice came down to protecting Ariadne's reputation he would not hesitate to cast the boy out. Any punishment would clearly fall squarely on Jason's shoulders; Pasiphae was not foolish enough to believe that Minos would ever see his daughter as anything less than virtuous and would never bring himself to punish her directly.

The King's face was like thunder now and Pasiphae found her anger growing even more. With one swift jerk she pulled open the door of the chamber and swept inside.

The sight which greeted her was not the one that she had been expecting from the brief snatch of conversation she had overheard through the door. Jason was reclining comfortably on the bed, propped into a sitting position by pillows. With a frown the Queen noticed that he was fully dressed rather than being in his nightshirt and trousers as she had been expecting and was stretched out on top of the covers rather than being tucked into bed as she believed he ought to be. Ariadne on the other hand was seated in a chair alongside the bed with enough distance between herself and her stepbrother for propriety to be thoroughly maintained. Between the two young people someone had placed a small table and on it someone had set up a Petteia board. Jason's kitten was sitting on the edge of the bed and kept reaching out one delicate paw to bash the pieces from side to side, engaging in her own game and clearly not caring that she was interrupting the one that was already underway. In the far corner of the room Pythagoras was reading quietly whilst Jason's other, older friend was tossing a set of dice.

Ariadne giggled again as the kitten ferociously attacked another playing piece.

"You are being naughty," she repeated, looking at the cat.

"Isis go and keep Pythagoras company," Jason said with amused exasperation, lifting the kitten and depositing her in an affronted heap on the other side of his legs, only to find that she scrambled back across the top of him and began to pat the playing pieces once more.

Pasiphae glanced across at her husband and saw Minos' expression morph from angry to bemused in a few short seconds. It was rare, she realised, for him to see his daughter in a playful mood. Her own anger had given way to a mixture relief and irritation at her own misconception and she stepped forwards with an imperiously raised eyebrow, her face unreadable.

Jason glanced up and smiled brightly as he saw her approach. In spite of herself Pasiphae felt a little frisson of pleasure at the warmth in his eyes. The boy looked genuinely pleased to see her. His smile became a trifle more nervous however as he spotted the King alongside her. Ariadne turned on seeing his reaction and smiled in greeting at her father, barely sparing a glance for her stepmother.

"Father," she greeted the King warmly, rising to her feet to receive a kiss. "I did not expect to see you here."

"Evidently," Pasiphae snapped, still a little irritated.

She moved towards her son, picking up the blanket that he appeared to have kicked off at some point as she went. She was vaguely aware of the fact that his friends were quietly exiting the room, heads bowed deferentially as they passed the King.

"I am pleased to see you are recovering," Minos said to Jason seriously. "You worried us all."

Jason looked down at the bed, clearly fighting the urge to bite his lip.

"I am sorry Your Majesty," he apologised softly.

Minos waved away the apology with one hand.

"This whole situation was not your fault," he stated firmly. "Your behaviour in the meeting with Anaxandros was exemplary and I was proud to have you by my side."

Jason flushed and ducked his head even further. Minos smiled softly. It was clearer than ever that the boy was not used to receiving praise.

"That being said," the King continued, "in the future I would expect you to inform someone if you are feeling unwell. I was aware that you were in some discomfort following our ride even though you chose not to speak of it… as was General Dion who rode alongside you. Next time… if there is a next time… tell someone. You would have received assistance sooner if you had."

"Yes My Lord," Jason answered contritely. "I'm fine now though."

Pasiphae snorted loudly.

"Pleased though I am to receive your _expert_ opinion," she said waspishly, "the doctor does not concur. It is true that you are no longer the colour of the sheets… a fact for which I am grateful… and are clearly better than you were, but you are _not_ _fine_." As she spoke she shook out the blanket and draped it over her son's legs, tucking it around him efficiently with one eyebrow raised daring him to object.

She braced herself for the argument that she expected would inevitably occur knowing what she did of her son's temperament. It was a surprise, therefore, when his head dropped even further and he began to pick miserably at the edge of the blanket. Pasiphae frowned at this unexpected reaction. She gently reached out and placed two fingers under his chin, raising his face so that she could look at him properly. The vulnerability she saw reflected in those hazel eyes when they finally met her own made her heart clench uncomfortably. She had not mean to seem severe; had not meant to take her irritation out on him or drive any sort of wedge between them – even an inadvertent one; knew he was still feeling unwell no matter how good an act he had been trying to put on and would therefore be more vulnerable than usual.

Forgetting the other occupants of the room for the moment she gently brushed Jason's hair back from his forehead with one hand, allowing her face to become softer as she did.

"I did not mean to snap," she said in a much gentler voice. "I am genuinely glad you are feeling better."

She lowered her hand until it was cupping the side of her son's face, deliberately ignoring the little gasp of surprise she heard from her stepdaughter. Let Ariadne think what she liked, the only thing that truly mattered was Jason. She felt her son smile shyly into her hand and returned it with a tender smile of her own. Then Jason turned his head slightly and pressed his lips into her palm; a faint butterfly of a kiss that was gone as quickly as it had arrived. For a moment Pasiphae was too startled to move or even to breathe, unprepared for his open show of affection. This was not something she would have dreamed possible at this point in time. Jason turned shyly away as though embarrassed by his own display of emotion.

"Who is this?" Minos' voice cut through the suddenly charged air like a knife as he pointed at the kitten who was now sitting in the middle of the gaming board.

Pasiphae almost scowled. How dare he interrupt like that? Then she saw the way that Jason relaxed and shot him a grateful look and realised that her somewhat private son had needed the change of subject. She patted the boy's hand gently and half turned towards her husband.

"That is Jason's _pet_ ," she answered with a faint hint of disapproval.

Minos looked a little startled. Like his daughter he knew only too well Pasiphae's antipathy to animals within the house. It was true that he had allowed both his children to keep pets when they were very young in the face of his wife's opposition and had subsequently faced her wrath, but neither animal had been replaced when it had passed on. So to hear now that Jason had been permitted to bring an animal into their home was surprising and spoke whole volumes, the King felt, for just how desperate Pasiphae was to build bridges with her son.

"Her name is Isosceles," Ariadne said reaching out to stroke the kitten.

"I let Pythagoras name her," Jason added defensively seeing Minos' raised eyebrows. "With hindsight that may have been a mistake."

"It is a perfectly good name," Ariadne argued, still tickling the purring Isosceles under the chin. "Besides which you seem to shorten it to Isis anyway." She looked critically at the small cat. "I think we will have to postpone our game," she remarked. "She appears most unwilling to allow us to continue."

Jason huffed a laugh.

"It's probably just as well given how badly you were beating me," he said. "Maybe I should teach her to do this every time I'm being beaten."

"That would give you an unfair advantage," Ariadne retorted, her eyes dancing. "Who could resist her? Actually for a beginner you were doing rather well."

Jason smiled at the Princess, trying to hide a shiver as a cold draft caught at him. He was beginning to feel quite cold lying here, which was only to be expected he supposed given the fact that he could not really move around to warm himself up. He didn't really want to make a fuss though; it was one thing to ask his friends to build up the fire a little or pass him an extra blanket but when his companions were the royal family of Atlantis he couldn't bring himself to do it – felt distinctly awkward even at the thought of asking.

He had failed to account for his mother's sharp eyes, however. Pasiphae shot him an exasperated look and moved to the cupboard alongside the fireplace. Reaching inside she withdrew a large fur and shook it out, coming back over to her son and laying it carefully over him, stroking down the soft fibres with one hand as she rang the bell for a servant with the other.

It was Orithyia who answered the bell. Now that Jason thought about it it had been the motherly servant who had come every time he had needed something over the last two days. She had said something yesterday about the Queen instructing her personally to look after his chambers and answer any of his requests but he really hadn't thought about it until now. The idea of having a personally assigned servant made him cringe somehow – although to be honest the idea of anyone waiting on him was more than a little abhorrent.

The servant stepped in through the doorway and bobbed submissively to the Queen. If she was in any way surprised to see the entire royal family in the chambers of the young man she had been asked to attend to she masked it well.

"The fire requires attention," Pasiphae stated imperiously. "See to it." She turned to Jason and her gaze softened. "There is no need for you to be cold in this house," she said.

Jason nodded. His chest was beginning to feel tight again and his head to ache a little – a sure sign that he was growing tired – but he didn't like to suggest that it might be a good idea if everyone left; somehow the thought of asking the King to leave seemed wrong.

Minos and Ariadne had retreated to the far side of the room and were conversing quietly, the King with one loving arm around his daughter's shoulders. Jason turned to watch them for a moment with lazy, peaceful eyes, before allowing his gaze to roam the room, taking in Orithyia banking up the fire before it finally came to rest on the knowing eyes of his mother.

Pasiphae sat herself in the chair that Ariadne had vacated and watched as weariness crept unawares over her son. Unconsciously he raised a hand to massage his temples gently, the skin around his eyes tightening slightly. She frowned. Jason was still a little paler than she would like, although she did have to admit that his colour was much better than it had been.

Before she could speak the servant finished attending to the fire and moved to leave. Jason turned his attention to the woman.

"Thank you Orithyia," he said quietly.

The motherly servant bobbed her head in his direction with a faint smile but left the chamber without a word, prudently deciding that it would be wiser for her not to speak in front of the King and Queen. Pasiphae had to admit to herself that Jason's knowledge of the servant's name startled her a little – although it really should not she supposed; he was not yet used to his current status in life and was likely to fancy that he had some sort of affinity with the servants. She made another mental note to speak to him on the subject as soon as he was better. It would after all be better for all concerned if he learned to keep his distance from those who were socially inferior – his own friends notwithstanding.

Now he winced slightly and tried to cover the action with a smile that did not quite manage to reach his eyes, rubbing his temples once more.

"You are feeling unwell again?" she demanded sharply.

"Not really," Jason answered, his voice low and weary. "My head aches a little bit and my stomach's a bit sore but I think it's mainly because I'm beginning to get a bit tired."

"Then we will leave you to your rest," Minos stated with some concern. "I would hardly like to think that any actions on our parts might hinder your recovery. I do not think anyone will be satisfied until you are back on your feet again."

"You don't have to leave Your Majesty," Jason protested mildly. "I'm not _that_ tired."

His protest would perhaps have worked a little better if he hadn't had to conceal a small yawn behind one hand. Minos smiled wryly and raised one eyebrow.

"Indeed," he said with a hint of mirth in his tone. "I can see just how 'not tired' you are." He came over to the bed and patted his stepson's shoulder warmly. "Sleep well Jason," he said.

"Thank you My Lord," Jason answered with faint embarrassment, looking down at the blankets once more.

A quiet but pointed clearing of the throat made him look up in time to see his mother placing a cup down on the bedside table and imperiously holding out a nightshirt in his direction. Jason took it with a rueful smile, automatically stripping off his tunic and slipping the nightshirt into place over his head without even thinking about it. Then he caught sight of Minos' raised eyebrows and pointed look in Ariadne's direction and flushed with embarrassment.

"Sorry," he muttered. "I didn't think."

Pasiphae tapped his arm gently and gestured towards the cup pointedly. Jason took it with a soft sigh, knowing that it would taste horrible but also knowing better than to complain.

His mother smiled and pushed his hair back from his forehead tenderly.

"It will ease your headache my love," she said softly, her tone mellow and maternal. "Now lie back and rest for a while."

Jason nodded and relaxed back, noting absently that his mother had readjusted the pillows whilst he had been changing his tunic to allow him to lie down in comfort. As he melted back into the mattress he was suddenly very aware of just how tired he had become but was aching a bit too much to sleep yet. As Pasiphae moved away from him Ariadne came forwards and perched on the edge of the bed, risking the wrath of her father as she took his hand.

"Get better soon?" she asked softly.

Jason smiled warmly at her.

"I'll be fine," he promised.

"Good." Ariadne smiled. "Just rest and get well."

As the Princess stood up and risked a look at her frowning father, Pasiphae approached once more. She had a cloth wrapped bundle in her hand – the warming stone from the cupboard that she had placed in the fire to heat through some moments earlier, unnoticed by the other occupants of the chamber. Now she slipped the bundle beneath the covers of the bed, relying on its heat to ease her son's aching stomach muscles. Then she sat down in the chair alongside Jason's bed and picked up a parchment he had discarded on the bedside table, perusing its contents thoughtfully.

Ariadne followed her father to the door of the chamber. As she got there, however, a soft sound reached her ears and she turned, open-mouthed, to stare at her stepmother. Apparently still deeply engrossed in her reading, Pasiphae had begun to croon a soft song to herself. The Princess froze. Never in a million years would she ever have believed that she would hear Pasiphae singing – and yet a memory stirred. She knew this song; had vague recollections of it being sung to her in her earliest childhood when she couldn't sleep. She had always believed that it had been her nurse who had sung to her or sometimes in her most cherished dreams she had imagined it was the mother who she could not remember – although she had always known really that that could not be; that her mother had died bringing her into the world. Now though she was forced to the uncomfortable realisation that it had been none of these people whose voice she had heard; was forced to realise that in fact the voice she had been remembering singing to her with apparent love was her hated stepmother. That realisation shook her somehow.

Ariadne frowned. Pasiphae's face was softer than she was used to seeing it and the lullaby she was singing was sweet and gentle. Jason was watching his mother with heavy lidded eyes and a peaceful smile. The girl felt a sudden irrational surge of jealousy at the fact that _her_ Jason was smiling so sweetly at a woman she had hated for so many years and who she knew despised her in turn. Yet Pasiphae seemed genuine in her care; genuine in her love. Shaken to the core and less certain of many things than she had been just a short time earlier, Ariadne turned and quietly let herself out of the room once more.

* * *

Jason slipped out through the side door of the Palace and into the gardens as quickly and silently as he could manage. Once he was out of sight of the door he released the breath that he had been almost unaware of holding and waited as the spots that danced briefly in front of his eyes as a result of the lack of oxygen faded away. He had been half afraid that someone would catch him and make him go back to his chambers. Not that he was really doing anything wrong, he told himself. After all the doctor had announced this morning that he could go outside again in spite of Pasiphae's disgruntlement; had said that he actually thought that short walks in the fresh air would be beneficial for clearing the last of the tightness in Jason's lungs. Admittedly he had added the caveat that the periods spent out of doors should be short for the next few days and that the young man should only go out when the weather was fine and if he was well wrapped up against any breeze, but that was hardly the point. The weather _was_ fine and Jason _was_ well wrapped up in a warm cloak but he knew that both his mother and Hercules would still try to prevent him from going outside if they could.

Actually, getting away into the gardens was something of a necessity as far as Jason was concerned. Over the last few days the only times he had been left alone were when he was sleeping (which was far more often than he was truly happy with). As he had convalesced from the poisoning 'rest time' had been strictly enforced, much to his chagrin. He couldn't really deny the fact that he was tiring incredibly easily at the moment and realised that he did indeed need to rest fairly frequently but he was going to go out of his mind if he couldn't get a little quiet time away from everybody to just think and try to sort his own head out. There was no use trying to convince either Pasiphae or Hercules of that fact, however, and appealing to either Pythagoras or Minos would not produce a successful result. Jason knew that his friends and family (and didn't it feel strange to think that he had a family now?) had been worried but surely Pythagoras and Hercules knew him well enough by now to realise that he needed his own head-space from time to time? Only Ariadne seemed sympathetic to his desire to get away for a little while but there was seemingly little that she could do to help while the twin figures of the Queen and Hercules alternately guarded his door with all the tenacity of a pair of Rottweilers.

This afternoon he had been just too wakeful to rest properly. His strength was rapidly returning and both the dizzy spells and the shortness of breath that had plagued him were rapidly receding. Having been left alone to try to rest he had been struck by the sudden need to get out; to find somewhere to have a think, preferably with a bit of fresh air too. Grabbing the cloak he had found in the trunk at the bottom of the bed (and he would swear that it wasn't in there the other day) he had slipped through the corridors of the Palace and out into the garden as quickly as possible.

Of course he wasn't stupid enough to believe that he would remain undetected for long and in fact had no intention of defying doctor's orders and staying out here for too long anyway, but the day was just too fine to miss by staying indoors. He smiled to himself and trotted down a leafy walkway towards a bench he could just see in an alcove. The enforced confinement that had been a direct result of his encounter with Anaxandros' knife had at least given his knee a much better chance to heal and while it was not quite fully healed yet it was at least much better; the limp in his walk was barely noticeable now – only worsening when he was tired. At least some good had come out of the situation then, he supposed.

With a weary sigh he sat down on the bench and leant forwards, resting his arms loosely on his knees. There was so much to think about; so much that his friends simply couldn't help him with; so much that he would have to sort out in his own head before he could begin to decide what he was going to do and where his future lay. Anaxandros had brought up one decidedly difficult prospect during the meeting the other day when he had suggested, however inadvertently, that Jason might be considered to be heir to Atlantis' throne. Did he really want that? Every inch of him screamed no. That was most definitely Ariadne's place and not his own, yet if he chose a path that involved marriage to the beautiful Princess that could very well be where his future lay. Over the time he had been in the city he had learned what place Atlantian society assigned to women; knew that although Ariadne was heir to the throne at present, any man she married would be declared King and expected to rule on her behalf.

Jason shuddered. The idea of being suffocated by the stultifying atmosphere of the Atlantian court horrified him. Whatever had been denied to him in childhood – however lonely or unwanted he had felt – he had always had his freedom and his independence. Allowing himself to be tethered to the court and the throne felt an awful lot like submitting to living in a cage – a prison – no matter how comfortable the surroundings might be. And what about his friends? What about Pythagoras and Hercules? If he did accept his place in the royal household what would become of them? They would return to their lives and their home in the city, of that he had no doubt. But what then? Would he still be able to see them every day? How could things ever be the same if they were living at home and he was living here? Sooner or later the traditions of the court would prevent him from leaving whenever he liked. Would the day come when the only time he saw the two most important people in his life would be across a crowded square as they listened to a proclamation?

But what if he rejected everything? Turned his back on his new family and walked away? Jason frowned. The King had undoubtedly proved to be remarkably kind during his short stay in the Palace – more so than he would have expected the man to be under the circumstances. Then there was Pasiphae. He was willing to admit that his mother was much more complex than he had ever given her credit for being and he was increasingly finding that he enjoyed her company. There had always been an attraction to the thought of having a mother of his own and now unexpectedly he had everything he had ever wanted. Pasiphae was not the sort of mother he had dreamed of having but already he could feel a bond growing between them. Leaving Ariadne out of the equation for a moment (because he would _always_ want to be near her) could he honestly say that he actually wanted to cut all ties with a family that he was just beginning to become part of? Could he leave them – could he leave his friends – and resign himself to a solitary life once more?

Jason sighed. Even without the thoughts of his future to trouble him he still had to decide what he was going to do about his father as well. Aeson had hurt him – hurt him more than he was willing to admit – and he knew that sooner or later he was going to have to face that; to face the bald fact that for whatever reason his father had chosen to walk away and leave him behind. Did he want to see him? Jason supposed that sooner or later he would have to if he ever wanted to get any of the answers to the mysteries that remained about his past. Whether or not he could ever forgive his father and develop any sort of relationship with the man would depend, he supposed, on what Aeson had to say. Much as he had no desire to see the man at present – had no wish to pick at a wound that was still essentially raw and bleeding – he was going to have to talk to his father if he ever wanted to understand why the man had left… and the truth was that he very much still needed to know. Not yet though. Aeson was a problem that could wait for another day.

"You seem troubled," Ariadne's voice drew him from his thoughts. "What is it?"

Jason looked up to see her approaching and half smiled in greeting.

"I was just… thinking," he answered. "Everything's moved so fast lately I just needed to think."

Ariadne came over and sat down beside him.

"Are you supposed to be out here?" she asked with a smile.

"Not you too," Jason groaned. "The doctor said I could come outside for a little while. He thought that the fresh air would be good for me."

"I am guessing that Pasiphae does not agree," Ariadne responded with an arched eyebrow.

"No," Jason moaned. "She wanted me to rest… but I wasn't all that tired and I needed some time to myself. Wherever I am at the moment there always seem to be other people. I just wanted to get away from them for a bit."

Ariadne looked uncomfortable.

"I am sorry," she said. "I did not mean to disturb you. If you would like to be alone I can leave."

"I didn't mean you," Jason said quickly. "I'm always happy to see you… I mean… you… I… oh hell why do I always turn into a tongue tied fourteen year old when you're around?"

Ariadne couldn't help grinning. She reached out and took his hand in hers.

"I think it's sweet," she said.

"It's pathetic," Jason answered. "It's just that I've never met anyone as perfect as you before."

"There have been no other girls? No-one has ever claimed your heart before?"

"Never anyone like you," Jason answered. "Never anyone serious… I was never very good at relationships of any kind," he confessed. "I was always a bit too quiet for most girls… a bit too odd... the girls where I lived tended to prefer someone a bit flashier… a bit more _normal_ … I think you know how I feel about you and part of me still can't quite believe that you might… like me too."

"For as long as I remember I have been told I am a goddess on earth," Ariadne began. "But the truth is that I'm no different to anyone else. I am not special; not perfect."

"You will always be perfect to me," Jason interrupted, turning to face her and taking both her hands fully in his own. "You could be dressed in a sack and cleaning out the bathhouse drains and you'd still be a goddess as far as I was concerned. Ariadne I love you… and I think that maybe you feel the same way about me."

"You give me your love so freely," Ariadne murmured. "I have never known what it is to be so open… All my life I have lived in fear; fear of what other people think of me; of how they might judge me… but with you I have no reason to be afraid. You have never judged me… only loved me as I am. When I am with you I am no longer afraid of anything. I am stronger when you are with me." She paused for a moment and looked deeply into Jason's eyes. "I love you. I think I have from the moment that we met… and I will not deny it any longer. I cannot imagine a life without you by my side."

"Your father has not given us his permission," Jason pointed out slowly.

"Neither has he denied it though," Ariadne argued. "I know that right now the thought of the future worries you Jason but know that I will be by your side… that I will stand by you no matter what it holds." She paused again. "When I heard the news that Anaxandros had poisoned you I was frightened," she admitted. "I was afraid I was going to lose you and I couldn't bear it."

"You don't need to worry about me," Jason protested.

"I couldn't help myself," Ariadne answered. "I could not bear it if anything happened to you." She looked down at their interlaced fingers. "I know now what it is to love somebody with all my heart."

Jason followed her gaze down to their joined hands. He stayed there for a moment with his head bowed, unable to put his thoughts and feelings into words.

"Say something," Ariadne implored.

Jason still didn't say a word. Instead he looked up at the Princess, his eyes darker than she had ever seen them. Leaning forwards slightly he captured her mouth with his own, drawing her in for a kiss that was both sweet and filled with yearning. After a moment he pulled back, a little out of breath, and raised one slightly trembling hand to her face, stroking his knuckles gently down the side. Then he leant in again for a slightly more chaste peck on her lips, quirking a lopsided smile against her mouth at the little surge of desire that he felt.

"I don't think your father would approve of that," he said breathlessly once he had pulled back once more.

"Indeed not," Ariadne responded with her own naughty smile. "For the time being we must appear as brother and sister to the world. As long as we know how each other feels though that will be enough. While we are safe enough out here we must be careful. There are many eyes in the Palace and I have learned that not all of them are friendly."

"I won't let anything happen to you," Jason murmured, pulling her back to rest against him and wrapping his arms around her. "I give you my word."

"Then nothing can harm me," Ariadne said softly, relaxing against his broad chest.

The moment was broken eventually when Jason gave a sharp cough. The day had grown a little colder and the tightness in his chest returned with the cooling air.

Ariadne sat up and frowned at him.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

"I think maybe I've been out here long enough," Jason answered, his breath catching slightly. "It's colder out here than I thought it was and I was warned not to overdo it."

"I forgot that you are not as well as you should be," Ariadne berated herself. "That you are still convalescing." She raised one hand to trace the faint cut mark at his throat. "We should return indoors where you can get warm."

She pushed herself to her feet and held her hand out to Jason. The young man stood and took it, allowing her to draw him back towards the Palace and feeling the electricity of their connection through their joined palms. There was something rather wonderful, he decided, about walking along the paths of the garden hand in hand with the woman he loved. As soon as they were in sight of the doors they would have to let go of one another once more – would have to revert to the image of a chaste brother and sister – but for now just holding Ariadne's hand was enough.

They were nearly in sight of the doors when the warning bell started to ring. Jason exchanged a quick, worried look with Ariadne and picked up his pace a little, although he did not let go of her hand.

"We should find out what is wrong," Ariadne said.

"Mmm," Jason agreed, mentally kicking himself for being unarmed aside from a small knife attached to his belt. "Listen," he said. "You need to stay behind me."

"Jason," Ariadne began.

Whatever else she was about to say was lost as a door opened ahead of them. Jason automatically tensed for an attack and pushed Ariadne firmly behind him, one hand gripping the hilt of his belt knife firmly.

"Jason." Pythagoras' urgent voice allowed him to relax a little.

The mathematician raced into sight, all sharp angles and flailing elbows as he ran.

"Thank the Gods I've found you," he said breathlessly as he caught up with his friend.

"What's going on?" Jason asked tensely.

"The King has sent people to look for you… for both of you," Pythagoras said with a quick look at Ariadne. "You are wanted in the chamber where you met His Majesty's advisors the other day."

"Why?" Ariadne asked.

"King Anaxandros sent an emissary to the King a short while ago. I do not know what was said but the Amphigeneians have broken the truce. We are under attack."


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Thank you once again for the lovely comments. I have to admit that I've struggled a bit with this chapter which is why it's later than usual. I hope it's still alright.

"What is it that you wished to know?"

The Oracle didn't even bother to look up from the entrails she was slicing. The chamber was as dark and gloomy as ever, the only point of light illuminating the seer herself. Pasiphae sneered slightly. It was all designed to impress the minds of the populace of course; to make them feel that they were entering a sacred place. Not that she doubted the power of the Oracle; it was more that she knew just how much the seer chose to keep to herself. The Queen pointedly ignored the bowl at the entrance to the chamber, placed there to receive the money of the faithful – given as an offering to appease the Gods and used to keep the acolytes of the Temple in a comfortable manner.

"You have a question for me," the Oracle went on in her clear voice, never turning.

"I need to speak to you about someone," Pasiphae admitted sharply.

"You wish to speak to me about Jason," the Oracle stated calmly.

"That is not something that required your powers of divination I am sure. What else could we possibly have to speak of?"

The Oracle turned with wry smile.

"You must be concerned," she noted. "To pay me so many visits in so few days is an unprecedented event."

"Spare me your barbs," Pasiphae bit back sharply. "They do neither of us any credit."

The Oracle rinsed her hands in a bowl of water that was standing ready for such a purpose. Drying them carefully, she turned towards the Queen and stepped forwards, her face unreadable.

"I had thought to see Jason himself before now," she noted softly. "He usually comes to see me when he is perturbed."

"He comes to you often?" Pasiphae asked sharply. The surge of jealousy that she felt at the thought that Jason had voluntarily been spending time with the prophetess was completely irrational, she told herself.

The Oracle gave a faint smile, clearly interpreting the emotions that danced across the Queen's face correctly.

"Only when he is upset or in need of direction," she answered. "Or when I send for him. Jason's destiny is a great one and there have been times when my visions have impacted directly upon him; when I have felt the need to warn him of the intentions of others."

"You mean that you attempted to poison him against me," Pasiphae stated bitterly.

"No," the Oracle said. "I have never had need to speak of you. Jason has drawn his own conclusions based upon your actions. I did, however, have cause to warn him of the intentions of Circe. She intended to harm him and her actions imperilled Jason… and us all."

"Circe!" Pasiphae spat. "I thought I had dealt with that accursed witch once and for all. Yet now I find that she has threatened my son. Does she know who he is?"

"I believe that she did indeed know who Jason is. Circe may not have possessed my level of prescience but she could read enough of the auguries to understand Jason's nature."

"I will destroy her for this."

"I do not think you will need to act," the Oracle answered. "I believe that Jason has dealt with the problem for you."

"How so?"

"Can you not feel it?" the Oracle asked. "Circe is no longer in the land of the living."

"You know full well that my abilities do not extend in the same direction as yours," Pasiphae snapped.

The Oracle nodded.

"Of course," she murmured. "Circe made the error of threatening that which Jason holds most dear: his friends. She paid dearly for her mistake."

"I cannot regret her destruction. I only wish I had had the chance to see it."

"She was your sister," the Oracle pointed out.

"She was not my only sister and it is a long time since we were anything other than enemies. She was jealous and bitter… consumed by hatred. Circe laid the seeds of her own destruction. She chose her path a long time ago."

"As you have chosen yours."

"We have all chosen our own paths through life," Pasiphae snapped. "Even you."

"And now Jason must choose his path," the Oracle said softly. "Is that what concerns you? That he may not choose the path that you desire?"

"My concerns are more immediate than that," Pasiphae answered sharply. "It is the present that concerns me not the future."

"I cannot presume to help you with the present," the Oracle stated. "I am a seer but I only see the future… and only so far as the Gods permit me to see."

"You forget," Pasiphae retorted. "I know you better than that Phemonoe. I know how far your gifts extend and what limitations there are on them. I know only too well that you see the past as well as the future and that your knowledge extends far beyond the realisation of most men."

"I have told you that name no longer belongs to me."

"Yet I feel that under the circumstances it is appropriate," Pasiphae said. "I have not come to speak with you as the Oracle of Poseidon but as Phemonoe, the woman I have known for a great many years."

"What is it that you want Pasiphae?" the Oracle asked sharply.

"I need your help," Pasiphae professed through gritted teeth. It went against the grain to ask the Oracle for any assistance. "I believe that Jason may require your guidance once more."

"Then why has he not come to me himself?" the Oracle enquired. "Jason has never been afraid to ask for my guidance when he believed he needed it."

Pasiphae hesitated.

"He has been unwell," she admitted shortly. "It was not a dangerous illness," she went on noting the Oracle's fearful look, "but it was sudden and its symptoms were severe. Jason is only now regaining his strength and the doctor felt it prudent that he should remain largely confined to the Palace for the time being."

The Oracle looked searchingly at her.

"Already you are changing Pasiphae," she observed. "Already he has worked his way into your heart. How does it feel to know that there is another person who holds so much power over you? To know that he holds your heart in his hands?"

"Jason holds nothing of me."

"He is your blood. Your child. You cannot deny your love for him. You cannot prevent Jason from changing you – from entering your heart – just as you cannot prevent him from fulfilling his destiny. Only the Gods can do that."

"Your faith is your weakness," Pasiphae sneered, unable to stop herself from reacting to the Oracle's words.

"And Jason is yours," the Oracle bit back.

"I did not come to wrangle with you," Pasiphae stated. "Much as it galls me to ask for your help it is what I must do." She paused. "Your mention of Circe was perhaps timely… although I do not come to speak of that witch but of my other sister. I believe there is a good chance that my son has inherited his aunt's gifts… _your_ gifts. Your curse. At present I believe he is only just beginning to touch at the edges of those gifts. I would not have him destroyed by those forces. He will need your guidance."

"Why?" the Oracle almost gasped. "Why would you think such a thing? What could make you believe that Jason has inherited those abilities?"

"He has dreams," Pasiphae began slowly.

"Everyone dreams," the Oracle answered dismissively.

"Not like this," Pasiphae answered. "I have had the occasion to observe his sleep frequently during his recent illness. His dreams are dark and his sleep troubled. He will not speak of what he sees in the waking world but he murmurs in his sleep… mentions things that he could not know or things that have not yet come to pass."

"This is not necessarily an indication that he has the abilities that you mentioned," the Oracle protested.

"Do not take me for a fool," Pasiphae snapped. "If this were all then I too would dismiss it as the troublesome fever induced dreaming of a young man who was ill and vulnerable… but there have been other… indications; worrying signs."

The Oracle looked at her seriously.

"I have never taken you for a fool," she murmured, "and if your meaning is truly to protect Jason then for once our purposes may be aligned. Come and be seated. If we are to talk then we may as well be comfortable."

She led Pasiphae to the far side of the chamber where a low bench had been carved out of the rock that the walls were formed from and hidden from the view of the rest of the room by a pair of pillars.

"Now," she said as they sat. "What has made you suspect that Jason possesses this gift?"

"Is it a gift or is it a curse?" Pasiphae mused.

The Oracle sighed.

"It is both," she said softly. "Many would see it as a great blessing from the Gods and yet it is a heavy burden to bear… and one that he will have to learn to live with if you are indeed correct."

Pasiphae sighed.

"I have no proof," she admitted. "It is more a feeling; a suspicion. Four days ago the King took Jason to his meeting with Anaxandros. Minos tells me that Anaxandros behaved in a treacherous manner – only to be expected given his nature – and held a knife to Jason's throat. Jason disconcerted him completely by telling a story… and yet it is a story that he could not possibly have known."

"And what was the story?" the Oracle asked.

"He spoke of the last time Anaxandros visited Atlantis… when Aeson was still King and Jason was still only a baby – less than a year old. There was an occasion when Anaxandros was found alone in Jason's nursery and the child was sobbing. At the time we noticed that his wrist seemed a little red but Aeson believed there to be a logical explanation and as Jason had returned to his usual good temper within a short time neither one of us thought much more of the matter. Jason claimed that Anaxandros had in fact deliberately twisted his wrist around – had sought to harm him – and Minos believed from Anaxandros' reaction that the boy had spoken the truth… but therein lies the problem…"

The Oracle frowned.

"Go on," she said.

"Minos believed that I had told Jason the story; that I had prepared him for his meeting with the Amphigeneian King by instructing him to tell it at the most opportune moment and thereby throw Anaxandros off balance… but I had not. I had not even thought of the incident for more than twenty years and did not suspect Anaxandros of deliberately attempting to hurt my son anyway. If I had even imagined such an occurrence all those years ago I would have acted in a very different manner," Pasiphae paused. "Once he was aware that I had not prepared Jason with the story, the King speculated as to whether the boy could have simply remembered the incident. Yet that cannot be true. Jason was far too young to have any such memory."

"There are some memories that can never be erased," the Oracle murmured, "but in this case I would suspect you are right. This is not something that Jason should be able to remember." She looked sharply at Pasiphae. "It would be as well to keep these suspicions between ourselves until we are sure that Jason does indeed possess the talent you are suggesting. If what you believe is true then it will be yet one more thing for him to have to adapt to… and he has already had a great deal placed upon his shoulders. It do not think it would be wise to worry Jason unnecessarily for the present. Does Minos suspect anything?"

"I believe not," Pasiphae stated with certainty. "I led him to believe that Jason must have been told the story by the chief royal physician and simply remembered what he had been told at the right moment."

"There is no chance that that is the actual truth?"

"None," the Queen answered. "Mnesus was not present in Atlantis during the visit of King Hagnon and his son Anaxandros. The old Queen had travelled to the Palace at Cynus – this was before it was destroyed – do you remember? She had been taken ill and Mnesus had gone to tend to her. He was gone for more than a month and by the time he returned Hagnon and Anaxandros were well on their way back to Amphigeneia. The incident was long since over and I doubt anyone would even have thought to mention it to him. It was after all a small occurrence in our lives. Of more concern at the time was the fact that Jason's nurse had inconveniently died and needed to be replaced. There were no servants available at the time when Anaxandros was discovered alone with Jason and as it was the only other people in the room were Aeson and myself. There is no-one that Mnesus could have learned the story from… which leaves only one real conclusion."

"That Jason somehow 'saw' what happened," the Oracle murmured. "You said that Anaxandros had a knife to Jason's throat… what were the exact circumstances under which Jason told the story?" Her voice was urgent somehow, even though she outwardly appeared calm.

"I did not dare ask Minos directly for fear of drawing too much of the King's attention to the incident… yet I think I have learned the truth of events. Minos and Anaxandros were sparring verbally when Minos introduced the idea of Jason's parentage. Anaxandros is using an obscure clause in the old peace treaty to make his spurious claim to Atlantis and the lack of an heir descending from Cretheus and Aeson is central to that claim. The King had hoped that the news of Jason's survival would throw Anaxandros off balance and he was right. What he failed to anticipate was that Anaxandros is both treacherous and faithless. He produced a knife and threatened Jason with it; holding to to the boy's throat. The King informed me that when Anaxandros caught hold of Jason the boy gave a strange smile and began spouting his story in a somewhat distracted tone of voice. Anaxandros believed it to be witchcraft."

"And if it was indeed a vision that Jason experienced then Anaxandros would not be too far wrong," the Oracle said, "although you and I both know that it is not actually witchcraft." She paused thoughtfully. "It was triggered in the moment Anaxandros touched him." She looked sharply at Pasiphae. "Does Jason know?"

"I do not believe Jason has realised what happened," Pasiphae answered. "The knife blade was tainted with poison and Anaxandros managed to nick him with it. It made him quite unwell and I believe that for the present any strangeness associated with the meeting has been driven from his mind; that he has put any feelings he had down to illness."

"Let it stay that way for the present," the Oracle said. "I will talk with Jason and try to discover the truth about his dreams. Perhaps he will be open with me – although I believe it is in his nature to be somewhat reticent. He does not, I think, enjoy talking about himself and if he believes that this is a secret he must keep to himself there will be little anyone can do to draw it out of him."

"And if you fail?"

The Oracle gave a strange soft smile.

"There is another way that I can find the truth," she admitted, "but I will not use it unless it should prove necessary. If Jason does indeed possess the gift of foresight in any degree he will not be able to hide it for long."

"That is what I fear," Pasiphae said quickly. "There are those in court who will fear Jason for his very existence. If they were to realise that he possessed any unnatural abilities… You know as well as I that your gift is as feared as it is revered and there are those who would seek to harm or to exploit Jason were he to possess the same ability."

"Is that an immediate danger?"

"No," Pasiphae answered. "Only a handful of people know of Jason's identity and none of them would dare to act openly against him. Minos is determined that Jason will have the choice of where his future lies and that none will be allowed to force the boy into a decision. To that end he has kept the knowledge of Jason's existence a secret. While I believe my fears to be valid they are fears for the future rather than the present."

"If you are right in your suspicions then Jason must be taught control over his own abilities. Too many seers have been driven mad by the visions they see," the Oracle stated. "But first we must know the truth of the matter. We must know if Jason does indeed possess the gift."

"I believe…"

Whatever it was Pasiphae was about to say was cut off by the sound of the warning bell tolling in the distance; even in the inner sanctum below the Temple its sound could be dimly heard. The Queen looked up sharply.

"It appears that any further discussion must wait," she said. "I must return to the Palace immediately."

Without further word she rose and swept out of the chamber, hurrying up the steps to the main Temple above. Behind her the Oracle sat deep in thought, mind turned towards both her own visions and the plans she must now make.

* * *

Minos looked up from the parchment he was reading as the door to the meeting room opened and his daughter and stepson hurried inside. Jason, he noticed, was hovering protectively close to Ariadne, one hand clasping the hilt of the knife attached to his belt as his eyes darted around suspiciously, on the lookout for any threat. Minos couldn't say that he disapproved under the circumstances. The young man held the Princess' chair for her before moving to the seat alongside her at Minos' nodded instruction.

The King frowned faintly. Both young people were dressed for an outdoor excursion and he found himself wondering whether his wife's son should have been engaged in such activity given his mother's belief that the boy was resting. There were many other things Minos should be thinking of of course – many affairs of state that naturally weighed heavily on his mind – and yet he could not help but eye Jason up thoughtfully; the paternal instinct in him demanding that he ensure the young man's welfare.

The boy was not as pale as he had been, Minos noted with some pleasure, and the fresh air had at least blown a little extra colour into his cheeks. Yet the dark smudges under his eyes told the King that his stepson was not getting enough rest and there was a general faint air of weariness about him that Minos suspected even Jason was unaware of.

"You have come from the gardens?" he asked seriously.

"Yes," Ariadne answered. "I was walking in the grounds when I came across Jason taking some fresh air. We came inside as soon as the warning bell sounded and Pythagoras – Jason's friend – said that you wanted to see us both here."

"Indeed I did," Minos stated. He turned to Jason. "I am pleased to see that you are feeling so much better," he said.

"Thank you Your Majesty," Jason murmured.

"However your mother led me to believe that you were resting in your chambers this afternoon," Minos continued. "I am therefore somewhat surprised to hear that you were out of doors and not where you were believed to be."

"The doctor said I could start going outside for a little while," Jason protested defensively. "I needed to stretch my legs and get some fresh air. I promise I wasn't overdoing it. I'm just not good at being stuck inside for too long and I wanted a bit of time to myself," he finished quietly.

Minos watched the young man carefully.

"I know what Mnesus said," he admitted, "and the need for solitude now and then is fully understandable… but do not make the mistake of defying your mother too openly – I do not think any of us wish to experience her temper."

Jason nodded and looked at the table, resisting the urge to bite his lip at the implied reprimand – however gently it was delivered.

"Pythagoras informed us that the Amphigeneians have broken the truce and attacked once more," Ariadne said.

"They have," Minos answered. "Although it hardly comes as a surprise. The four days allotted for Anaxandros' response have passed. He sent a missive this morning rejecting my claim that you are Aeson's son and informing me that the siege would once again begin."

"You suspected this would happen though," Ariadne stated.

"I knew it would," Minos agreed. "Anaxandros is merely using the clause in the old treaty as a means to claim what he desires – the throne of Atlantis. He would never have accepted anything less than a full capitulation on my part and knew that he would not get that. His army outnumbers ours by at least four to one and they have had sufficient time to construct their siege engines now. Still our walls are strong and our soldiers stout hearted… and we have bought time for our allies to draw ever nearer."

"So what happens now?" Jason asked, his tone subdued.

"The siege has recommenced," the King answered. "The will continue to attack the walls and we will continue to repel them. Eventually – when they realise that the city will not fall so easily – Anaxandros will demand that our champions meet theirs in single combat… but that will not be for some weeks yet. For now we will endure." He paused. "I called you both here to do more than explain the basic situation," he admitted. "Much as it might distress me to do it I must inform you both that until such time as I deem it safe you must both be confined to the Palace and its gardens."

"Father," Ariadne protested, "the people will need to see that we do not fear; that we have not abandoned them."

"And they will not," Minos declared. "I will not cower behind doors – although much of my time must of necessity be taken up with affairs of state and may mean that I must absent myself from public duties – and the Queen will continue with those duties that I have not the time to fulfil at the Temple. I will not risk your life unnecessarily, however Ariadne… and your mother would skin me alive if I did not do everything in my power to ensure your safety," he added turning to Jason.

Jason looked at him seriously, determination already beginning to brew in his hazel eyes.

"My Lord, my name and my friends' names are already on the muster lists for defending the walls. They were just waiting for my knee to heal up and for Pythagoras to grow a bit stronger before they called us up with the other men," he began.

"Your names will be removed," the King said dismissively, mind already turning to the next matter.

"No!" Jason protested sharply. He flushed slightly as Minos turned a stern gaze on him, face darkening with anger at the young man's tone and eyebrow quirking imperiously.

"I am sorry My Lord," Jason went on, lowering his eyes to the table top. "I didn't mean to seem rude or snap… but Atlantis is my home. Some of the men called to defend the walls are my friends; my neighbours. How can I sit back and do nothing knowing that they're out there fighting for their lives and their homes? Knowing that they're dying while I'm tucked away in the safety of the Palace? You said that I would be free to leave once the meeting with Anaxandros was over."

Minos sighed.

"I said that you would be free to leave once the immediate problem of the Amphigeneians was over," he clarified softly, "which it is not yet. Jason I do understand your feelings in this matter but you must understand my position also. Anaxandros knows who you are. No matter what his missive states he knew that I spoke the truth about your identity as soon as you told that story of his last visit to Atlantis. I could see it in his eyes. He should also have received confirmation his own seers and priests. He will see you as an impediment. If others should learn of your identity then any hope he has of legitimising his treacherous activities in breaking the peace treaty by invoking the forgotten clause will be lost. Above all things he will want to be rid of you. If, by some mischance, he manages to break into the city his first act will be to see your life ended. I will not willingly place you in that danger."

"If the Amphigeneians break through the defences and get inside the city we'll all be fighting for our lives," Jason pointed out. "Besides… you said you wanted to keep it secret who my mother is… who I am. If I'm not on the list sooner or later someone's going to notice and start talking."

"Are you that well known in the city then?" Minos asked with a faintly amused smile.

"No," Jason answered. "But Hercules is… and my neighbours know me – at least by sight – so if I'm not on the list at all – if I'm not part of the defence at all – they will realise eventually."

"As neither you nor your friends have been into the lower town for some days perhaps those people who know you will believe that the three of you are not in the city at all," Minos stated. "They may think you were outside the city when the siege commenced and were unable to return."

"No," Jason answered softly. "The day the siege began Hercules ran into Eupalinus from next door and they had a long chat about Eupalinus' son coming back from Pathmos – Eupalinus really isn't too happy about it… I'm not sure what his son did but he really didn't want him to come home…"

He trailed off as he spotted Minos' eyebrows raising even further and Ariadne shooting him a confused and incredulous look.

"Sorry," he muttered, dropping his head again. "I'm rambling aren't I?"

"Yes," Ariadne answered flatly.

"My point was that our neighbour's knew Hercules was in Atlantis the day the siege started and would have seen the soldiers coming to the house to record who lived there and what weapons we had," Jason went on. "They'll know we're still in the city somewhere even if we're not at home. Sooner or later someone's going to start asking questions. Besides, this is our city and I'm not going to see it fall to these savages… or to sit back and do nothing while others die on my behalf. Atlantis is my home… the only place I've ever really been made to feel welcome… and I will not stand idly by and see it destroyed."

Jason sat back, breathing hard; his chest suddenly tighter than it had been. He gave a sharp cough and dropped his head even further, trying to get more air into his lungs.

Minos frowned.

"We will discuss this further when you are no longer recuperating," he said firmly. "For the present you are not well enough to join the defence on the walls regardless of any other consideration. I will give thought to all you have said but you must accept that my decision will be final and I will brook no argument." He glared at his stepson. "I will be obeyed."

The look Jason gave him in return could have been construed as semi-defiant. Minos allowed his own face to darken somewhat. He was absolutely certain that this was not the last time he would end up battling his strong-willed stepson but he was determined that Jason _would_ obey him in this matter – as he had said he fully intended to give due consideration to the lad's opinion but that did not mean that he intended to accept any opposition to his dictates.

Noticing that Jason's head was still bowed and he appeared a little breathless, Minos' frown took on a worried note. Damn it all the boy was still not fully well yet. He should be concentrating on fully regaining his health and not worrying about going out to fight. Without another thought the King rang a bell which sat on the table in front of him to summon the ever present servant from their station outside the door to the room.

"Bring a flagon of warm spiced wine and drinking vessels," he instructed. He turned back to Jason. "The warmth should soothe your chest a little," he added.

Jason nodded, still looking down at his own lap. Minos reached across the table and tucked two fingers under the lad's chin, raising his face until Jason was forced to meet his eyes.

"Do not defy me," the King said softly.

"I don't mean to Sire," Jason murmured. He hesitated for a moment. "I'm just not used to anyone telling me what to do," he admitted.

Minos looked at him quizzically.

"You have had no-one to whom you were answerable?" he asked incredulously.

Jason shrugged without thinking then winced, knowing that Pasiphae had informed him that it was a gesture which neither she nor Minos were fond of.

"Not since I was about thirteen," he admitted. "I mean there were people that I lived with until I grew up but none of them were ever all that bothered about what I did."

The King frowned and nodded. In a bizarre way it made sense. The young man's apparent lack of respect for his authority all those months ago when he had ended up sentencing both Jason and his friends to the bull court was more understandable now – it did not stem from any disrespect either for him or for the Gods but more from a lack of understanding on Jason's part of the deference one should show to one's betters. If the boy had truly not been answerable to anyone before – had not received the care and attention that he had been due as a child – both his independence and wilfulness were much more understandable. He would require careful guidance and more nurturing than Minos would perhaps have expected for a young man of his age – yet the King found himself almost looking forwards to the challenge that Jason would provide.

The boy was like a colt; high spirited, half wild and as yet untamed. He had many good qualities that needed fostering and several bad habits that needed breaking but all in all Minos had decided some days back that he liked what he saw. A question mark still remained about the level of education the boy would require; as yet there had been no opportunity to assess the level he had already received. Perhaps it would be best to assume that he had received nothing above a rudimentary level (although the fact that he _could_ read and write indicated that he had at least received _some_ formal schooling) and then there could be no disappointment if testing revealed that Jason would need to start his education again at the beginning.

Of course all this relied on the lad taking up the offer that Minos intended to make to him once the situation with the Amphigeneians was if not resolved then at least deescalated. Although he could still not be completely sure that the boy would accept his offer the longer Jason stayed with them at the Palace the more likely it seemed to become. While the relationship the lad was developing with his mother was still very fragile and very new there did seem to be genuine affection forming on both sides and Minos was hopeful that Jason would accept his proposal even if it was simply out of curiosity and to gain the chance to learn more about his own family background.

The door to the chamber opened and the King looked up expecting to see the servant he had despatched for wine re-entering – although the man was taking his own sweet time in getting here. Was he pressing the grapes personally? It was a surprise therefore when, far from the obsequious servant he was anticipating seeing, Pasiphae entered bearing a silver tray with an ornate jug and four decorated goblets.

"The servant was at the door when I arrived," she said calmly in answer to Minos' questioning look. "I believed that it would be preferable to have no interruptions." She swept the room with a glance, her eyes narrowing as she spotted her son. "Would you care to explain why you are dressed for the outdoors when I can clearly remember leaving you to rest no more than an hour ago?" she asked Jason frostily.

Jason winced.

"I wasn't tired enough to sleep," he answered quietly, "and I wasn't exactly relaxing lying and looking at the ceiling either. I went for a little walk in the gardens to try and clear my head a bit… I needed to get some fresh air. I wasn't going to stay out there all that long and I did wrap up like I'd been told to. The warning bell went off before I could come in though and then His Majesty sent for me."

Pasiphae took in the weary slump to the boy's shoulders and the way the breath seemed to catch slightly in the back of his throat with a distinct frown.

"Indeed," she said sharply, "and yet it would appear that you have still managed to overexert yourself at the first available opportunity."

"I'm fine," Jason protested. "I'm just a bit tired now."

"Perhaps," Pasiphae retorted, "but you will not be going outside without permission again."

"I had the doctor's permission," Jason argued softly.

"Yes," Pasiphae snapped, "but you did not have _mine_." She frowned again as Jason fought to suppress another sharp cough and reached for the jug she had brought in, pouring out a goblet of warm wine. "Here," she said more gently, "you should find the warmth of the wine eases your chest." She reached out one slender hand and rested the back of it firmly on the young man's forehead even as she handed him the cup with the other. "If nothing else it should help to warm you up," she added, her frown deepening at the chill she felt from her son's skin.

Jason approximated a smile in her direction.

"Thank you," he murmured, sipping at the wine.

Pasiphae's eyes softened although her expression remained severe.

"As soon as we are finished here you will be going straight to bed, silly boy," she said briskly. "You are rapidly regaining your strength and health but this will not happen without rest. Do as you are told now and I may consider a short walk in the fresh air tomorrow as long as you are well rested beforehand."

Her son regarded her mutinously.

"I'm sorry," he said sarcastically. "I didn't know I had to ask _permission_ to leave my room. Next time I'll make sure that you're fully informed. Perhaps you'd like me to send someone to tell you when I need to use the latrine?"

Pasiphae drew in a sharp breath, stung enough to snap back, her eyes flashing dangerously. Before she could say anything, however, Minos jumped in, his face darkening dangerously.

"I thought I had made it clear to you that I would not tolerate any lack of courtesy or respect towards your mother," he said sharply. "You will learn to moderate your tone or you will face the consequences." He held Jason's eyes until their expression changed from mutinous and angry to anxious and guilty, watching as the lad flushed and looked down at the table. "I trust you understand my meaning."

"Yes My Lord," the young man muttered. He looked back up at Pasiphae. "I'm sorry," he said. "I am tired… My friends have told me in the past that I tend to get cranky when I'm overly tired… I think the words Hercules used were 'grumpy two year old'."

Pasiphae arched an eyebrow, her eyes boring into her son. Jason returned her gaze steadily, an apology swimming in his hazel eyes. Finally Pasiphae sighed and reached out one hand to brush his hair away from his eyes.

"I am not ordering you around for fun Jason," she said softly. "What happened with Anaxandros frightened me and I have no wish to see you become that unwell again."

"I really am sorry," Jason said again. "I don't like worrying people."

It still felt strange to think that these people had been worried about him; that _anyone_ worried about him – although it was something he had had to get used to with his friends.

"I'm alright now anyway," he went on. "I'm just getting a bit more tired than normal that's all."

"Indeed," Pasiphae responded, "and because of that you need to rest when you are told. I only want what is best for you."

The young man nodded and looked down at the table top again, feeling more than a little awkward and bashful at the scrutiny he was receiving.

Minos watched him for a moment, gauging whether or not his reprimand had truly been understood, before turning back to his wife.

"You were not here when the missive from Anaxandros was received my love," he commented.

Pasiphae bristled at the perceived criticism.

"I had need to consult the Oracle," she answered sharply, "and I was fulfilling my other duties at the Temple. I was there when the warning bell sounded and hastened to return as quickly as possible."

"Your devotion to your duty is as always admirable," Minos affirmed earnestly.

"I presume that Anaxandros has acted as we expected," Pasiphae stated.

"It is as you say," Minos agreed. "The Amphigeneian King has rejected our statements and denied our claims as to your son's parentage. He has ordered an end to the truce and his men have begun the attack once more. I requested the presence of both Jason and Ariadne that we might discuss what this will mean for all of us."

"Very well," Pasiphae said. "Then let us begin our discussion properly."

* * *

The attacks on the walls over the next few days were brutal but mercifully brief. They tended to follow a distinct pattern. First the Amphigeneian catapults would pound the walls while the defenders huddled down as best they could, trying to stay out of sight and out of the line of fire. More and more of the houses near the city walls began to show signs of the conflict; pockmarks appearing in the stone walls and holes in the roofs. Increasingly the occupants began to abandon their homes and take refuge in the Temple or one of the hastily constructed refugee camps that had sprung up in the squares and open spaces of the upper town. The largest camp was in the courtyard in front of the Temple – a place desperation, starvation and sickness. The city – already weakened by the recent epidemic – began to weaken even further.

Once the catapults had done their work the enemy archers would begin to fire at the walls. Sometimes the arrows would be dipped in pitch and set to burn. The defenders would creep forward with shields raised above their heads to try to ward off the falling projectiles, knowing that the enemy infantry would be following shortly behind and that they would need to be prepared. It was a risky business and more than one Atlantian defender fell not to get up again.

Eventually the arrows would stop and the men on the walls would know that the most acute phase of the attack was imminent. The Amphigeneians would charge forwards with battering rams and siege ladders, fighting tooth and nail to get inside the city. In their most serious attacks Aries, their giant ram, would trundle ponderously across the plain to batter at the great Telapius Gate, striving to find a weakness in the defences.

So far every attack had been repulsed comprehensively although even rotating the men on the walls the defenders were growing increasingly tired. Nevertheless, at present the numbers of Amphigeneian dead were still outweighing the Atlantian defenders at the end of each attack. Increasingly though there were empty seats at the supper tables in the city; beds that would not be slept in again. A grim determination settled in across Atlantis; a resolve to survive in the face of all odds.

Hercules slipped through the anxious streets purposefully. It was all very well staying up at the Palace and he wasn't about to leave Jason for the world but there were still people in the lower town that he knew and cared for and wanted to check on. Besides, while he knew that the King was getting information directly from the military commanders on the walls there was one perspective he was still overlooking – that of the ordinary citizens. In order to truly gauge the mood of the city and really know what was going on you needed to get information from the people who lived their everyday lives there – and that was something that Hercules suspected Minos would not even consider.

He paused at a corner to allow a death cart to rumble past, carrying the victims of the latest skirmish for proper burial. Hercules swore softly to himself and muttered a quick prayer to the Gods both for the rest of the poor unfortunates who had been killed and in thanks that as yet both he and those he knew had been spared. Truthfully he had hoped that with the end of the plague that had gripped the city so recently he would have seen an end to the use of death carts; that there would be no more need for mass burials.

Once the cart had gone on its way the stocky wrestler looked up again. He had paused beside a tavern – one of the ones he didn't regularly frequent. Perhaps it was a sign that he should nip inside and just have a little drink to fortify himself? Hercules shook himself, sternly reminding himself that the boys would be anxiously awaiting his return at the Palace. If he took too long they might take it into their heads to come searching for him. Given that Jason was still largely confined to the Palace and its grounds (which Hercules wholeheartedly agreed with given the lad's recent precarious health) the big man could not see that going down well.

Actually both boys were almost back to full health – praise the Gods. Hercules shuddered. He had come too close to losing Pythagoras recently and seeing either him or Jason ill or in pain was never easy. No he needed to get on with his business as quickly as possible and return to his friends. Then there could be no chance of either one of them doing anything rash like trying to evade the guards to come to find him (although somehow he doubted that Pythagoras would do something so reckless without prompting from his partner in crime – _Jason_ on the other hand was far more impulsive). But it would only be _one_ little drink and he _was_ thirsty. Surely the boys wouldn't begrudge him a small cup of wine to ward off the chill of the day? Plus he had always had good luck in finding information when he was in the tavern. There was always at least one garrulous drunk who was willing to talk. He resolutely ignored the little voice inside that told him that said garrulous drunk was usually _him_.

Hercules shook himself again. No! There would be time enough for a drink later. For now he needed to move. Decision made he set off again, casting one last longing look over his shoulder at the comforts of the tavern.

The streets were busier than he had thought they would be actually, although there was a dark undertone of anxiety that was not usually present and there were far less goods on display for sale. Having lived through the civil war Hercules knew that most of the populous would be hunkering down and stockpiling their supplies, preparing to endure for as long as necessary. The longer the siege went on the fewer goods there would be for sale and the Atlantian citizenry knew it. Those merchants that were plying their wares today had already put their prices up in anticipation of demand rapidly outstripping supply. Hercules shook his head bitterly. There were always those who seemed ready to profit from the misfortunes of their neighbours.

It was common to see the odd member of the city guard out in the streets on any normal day, usually patrolling in pairs and ensuring the smooth running of the agora by being a visible presence to put off thieves and miscreants from causing trouble. They were never far out of earshot of others of their units so that a swift response to any trouble could take place. Often they were to be found bullying the vendors into giving them free food or drink or strutting past the rest of the populous with an arrogance born of the power their positions afforded them.

Now there seemed to be guards everywhere that Hercules looked. He should have expected it, he supposed. Some of them were just heading back to barracks following a night spent on the city walls and others were heading towards the walls to relieve the citizens who currently manned them. Then there were those who were responsible for ensuring the normal functioning and safe running of the city and preventing looting, and those responsible for ensuring that those ordinary citizens due to take their turn on the walls did not shirk their duty.

Hercules frowned again. Much as he had no real desire to return to the chaos of a large battle – no wish to remind himself of the terror and the horror that fighting in the closely packed streets of Atlantis had brought during the civil war – he knew that it was inevitable sooner or later unless a swift resolution were brought to the current siege and the Amphigeneians packed up and went home (which was looking more and more unlikely as time went on). He also understood Jason's upset at the thought that Minos might take his name off the list of citizens required to take part in the defence of the city. This was their city – their home – and their friends were here. Part of the problem, he decided, was that essentially Minos had long since lost contact with the ordinary people (if he had ever really understood them to begin with – something which the burly wrestler privately doubted). The King spoke often about the duty and loyalty that the people owed to the city and its ruling family but Hercules doubted that he truly understood what that meant to a boy like Jason for whom loyalty, duty, honour and tenacity were a way of life – were a basic and essential part of his character.

The big man sighed softly. Both his boys were unswervingly loyal and steadfast to their friends and to the city that they had adopted – and that had adopted them. To ask either Pythagoras or Jason to watch their friends and neighbours risking their lives while they themselves sat back and did nothing was simply not an option. Hercules applauded Minos' desire to keep his stepson safe (and to extend that to the boy's friends to try to ensure Jason's peace of mind) but he couldn't help thinking that there would be less trouble in the long run if he found a way for Jason to take part in the defence of the city in some way – even if it was in a safer capacity than fighting on the walls – because as sure as the sun rose in the morning Jason _would_ find some way around the restriction and into the battle – and Hercules knew that he and Pythagoras would be right there with the lad when that happened.

Lost in thought the burly wrestler walked past his destination and out onto the Sacred Way. He swore loudly, making several people turn to stare at him disapprovingly. Hercules resisted the urge to tell them to mind their own business and turned back around to head a short way back down the side street he had emerged from.

Letting himself in through an unremarkable doorway he paused at the bottom of a flight of stairs and blew out a breath. It was time for him to find out what was really going on in the city – information that would not reach the King's ears via "official" channels. With a soft smile to himself, Hercules mounted the stairs and knocked at the door at the top. The door opened and the big man stepped inside.

* * *

Jason allowed his eyes to adjust to the cool darkness of the Temple and looked around himself with a frown. Even with the presence of so many refugees – both from within the city and without – the place still retained an air of serenity; a sense of peace and timelessness that called to him in exactly the same way it had the first time he had come here on his first day in the city. He still wasn't entirely sure what being 'touched by the Gods' entailed so maybe it was only natural that this was a place of safety for him; one of the few places he actually felt at home. Part of him still couldn't quite believe that he and Ariadne had managed to persuade Minos to allow them to leave the Palace for a short time in spite of the King's objections – although if he were being honest with himself he would have to admit that it was more Ariadne than him; the Princess' manipulation of her father had been masterful. It seemed that Ariadne's powers of persuasion far surpassed anything that would have been expected of the apparently innocent girl and even Pasiphae – mistress of the art of manipulation that she was – had looked suitably impressed as the Princess had deployed every weapon in her arsenal to get what she wanted.

In the end Ariadne had managed to persuade her father that there was little risk to her attending her duties at the Temple – especially if she used the secret passageway that linked the two complexes – and had submitted to having extra guards to ensure her safety. She had promised to return to the Palace the instant that there was any hint of danger to her from the besieging Amphigeneian forces and had pointed out that even if the enemy made it past the city walls they would still have to fight their way through the streets of both the lower and upper towns before they came anywhere near approaching the Citadel and that this would give both her and her guardians ample time to retreat to the relative safety of the Palace. She did not point out that by the time any attackers breached the Temple the battle would have been lost anyway, prudently feeling that it would be unwise to draw her father's attention to any such eventuality.

Jason's own position was somewhat trickier. He couldn't exactly be surrounded by a contingent of guards without someone asking awkward questions and the risk that his true identity might be discovered was more than he felt he could cope with at the moment. After all he really hadn't decided what he was going to do once the Amphigeneian siege was over. Yet Minos had been unwilling for him to leave the Palace grounds without protection. Jason frowned at the thought. He was perfectly capable of defending himself; had proved that over and over again in the months since he had come to Atlantis; was by now more than a little proficient with a sword. Minos, however, would not be swayed. Once again it had been Ariadne who had provided the solution. She had suggested to her father that, as he had publically announced that Jason had been made a champion of Atlantis as a way of explaining his stepson's presence at his side during his meeting with Anaxandros, it might be appropriate to formally anoint the young man as such and to seek the Gods' blessing for his appointment. Then his presence as a member of the retinue guarding the Princess on her visits to the Temple would not be remarkable.

Surprisingly she had been backed up by Pasiphae – although perhaps that was more a move of self-preservation than anything. Her dark haired son was beginning to climb the walls as his enforced confinement grated upon him and his temper was becoming noticeably worse. Jason sighed. He didn't intend to take his frustration out on anyone to be honest but he'd never really fared all that well when forced to stay indoors and in company for protracted periods. Being truthful he was more used to solitude and his own company than that of other people and could only handle so much before he told the world to bugger off. At the moment he didn't even seem to be able to settle down to read (which to his mind was a distinctly solitary pastime that needed no input from anyone else) without someone coming and asking what he was doing and whether he was alright. All in all he was going seriously stir crazy and needed some form of release.

Minos, of course, had really stood no chance when his wife and daughter had ganged up on him. For all he was the King and most definitely master of the house he knew better than to upset the two women in his life. He had given Ariadne a shrewd look and countered her suggestion with one of his own; that Jason would be allowed to go to the Temple with the other members of the family and would not be required to stay near them while they were there (so as not to draw unwanted suspicions about his presence at the side of the King and Queen) as long as he agreed to leave when they did and didn't stray too far from the soldiers that surrounded them. Much as Jason hated the idea of being restricted like this, he supposed it was the best compromise that the King could come up with.

It helped as well that he had received a timely summons from the Oracle a little while ago. Jason wasn't entirely sure what she would want this time and was still a little wary of talking to her at the moment in spite of the encounter he had had with the naiads in the Sanctuary a few days earlier (because after all she had still kept some pretty big secrets from him from the moment they had met and he still couldn't quite shake the vague feeling of anger at her lies) but his good manners and natural curiosity had won out. The Oracle had always tried to be kind at least, he reminded himself firmly ruthlessly clamping down on his own anger. From the first moment he had arrived in Atlantis she had been there for him; constantly on his side. The warmth with which she greeted him – even at times when he had railed against her and the Gods – was not something that he could easily forget and her kindly delivered advice had pushed him into trusting his friends with more of himself than he would have believed himself able to… and she had been correct in her advice; thanks to her gentle prodding he had ended up allowing his friends to heal some of the cracks in his heart and had found himself happier than he remembered being since early childhood.

Now he found himself lurking in the shadow of a pillar with Pythagoras at his side making light and lazy conversation as he waited for the Seeress to be free. Minos had declared his own need to consult the Oracle and the King's needs naturally took precedence over anything else. The trip to the Temple had almost taken on the role of a family outing, Jason thought wryly. Pasiphae had come along to fulfil some of her own duties and was currently praying at the main bomos and Ariadne had tacked herself onto the back of the group and was wandering amongst the pillars comforting the wounded and displaced. Jason smiled softly to himself. The people had good reason to love their Princess. Ariadne clearly cared for them and worried about their wellbeing in ways that the rest of her family did not appear to. That was not to say that the King did not care for his people; it was more that he lacked an understanding of their problems and could not relate to them on a personal level.

A sudden flurry of movement caught Jason's attention and he turned in time to see little Castiantiera hurtling across the floor of the Temple towards him, her eyes bright and a beaming smile on her little face.

"Jason!" she crowed as she drew closer. "I've missed you."

Jason smiled and swept the child up into his arms.

"Cassie," he greeted the child. "Where's your father?" he added with a frown, peering around for Talos.

"Over there," Cassie answered with an airy wave of her hand towards the far side of the Temple.

"Does he know where you are?" Jason asked, his frown deepening. He knew only too well from past experience that Cassie had a tendency to wander off from her father whenever something caught her attention – something that cause Talos no end of worry.

"Of course he does silly," Cassie said firmly. "He told me I could come and see you." She frowned suddenly. "You left the other day," she pouted. "I wanted to see you and you weren't here."

"I'm sorry," Jason answered. "There was something I had to do."

"What?"

"It was a grown up thing," Jason responded. "It was very boring." He paused and looked at Cassie seriously, setting the child down on her feet and crouching down in front of her. "I thought you would have gone home by now though. What are you doing here today?"

"We did go home," Cassie answered, "but Daddy thought that our house was too close to the walls… I don't know why because it's always been there."

Jason half smiled.

"Your Daddy just wants to keep you safe," he said softly. He looked up and spotted Ariadne over behind a pillar and looked at Pythagoras with his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Come on," he said to Cassie. "There's someone I'd like you to meet."

Taking the little girl's hand firmly in his own the young hero crossed the Temple floor and made his way over to Ariadne. The Princess turned to see him approach, her smile of welcome morphing into a questioning expression as she saw the child he was towing along with him.

For her part Cassie stared in open-mouthed wonder the closer they came to Ariadne, one hand firmly clutching her doll, Arisbe, and the other squeezing Jason's hand tightly. As they reached the Princess the little girl ducked behind her companion's legs and peered out shyly, clearly unable to believe that she was actually in Ariadne's presence.

Jason grinned openly and crouched down next to the child.

"Cassie," he said, "I'd like to introduce you to Her Royal Highness Princess Ariadne. Ariadne this is my friend Castianiera… she… erm… she rather idolises you."

Ariadne smiled softly and knelt down to the same level that the child was on.

"Hello Cassie," she said softly. "I am very pleased to meet you. Any friend of Jason's is a friend of mine."

Cassie stared back at her with huge eyes and bit her lip, trying to hide behind Jason as much as possible. Ariadne spotted the doll in the little girl's hand.

"And who is this?" she asked gently. "She is very pretty."

Cassie looked at Jason.

"It's alright," Jason encouraged. "Ariadne won't bite."

"Her name's Arisbe, My Lady," Cassie whispered. "She's my bestest friend in the whole wide world. Daddy made her a dress like yours."

"It's beautiful," Ariadne said. "Your Daddy must be a very clever man."

Somewhere outside a horn blared. Jason looked around with a frown, noting that Ariadne did the same.

"Would you mind staying here with Cassie while I check that out?" he murmured to the Princess.

"Of course," Ariadne responded. "I'm sure that Cassie will tell me all about Arisbe." She looked expectantly at the child.

By the time Jason got to the door of the Temple the first of the wounded were being brought in, to be pounced on immediately by the contingent of doctors and swept away to places where their wounds could be treated swiftly and properly. He was aware of Pythagoras at his elbow, already looking for a way to help. Then the great doors of the Temple swung inward again and a figure staggered in, blood streaming down the side of his face and a bundle of rags clutched in his arms. He collapsed to his knees and deposited the bundle on the floor in front of him. As he did so it became apparent that what he had carried was not a bundle of rags at all but a young girl, her hair hanging like a curtain over her face. The injured soldier who had brought her in reached out with trembling fingers to brush back the long strands. Jason's blood ran cold as he looked at the face of the girl. It was Amathea, the eldest of the girls he had helped to rescue from the slavers just a short time ago; the girl who had so bravely helped him to free the others. An arrow was buried deep in her chest.

"Please help me," the soldier begged. "She's hurt."

Somewhere nearby a woman screamed. Jason didn't even flinch or turn his head, his whole attention fixed on the child in front of him. He felt detached somehow; numb.

"Jason?" Pythagoras asked clutching his arm worriedly, even as his eyes darted towards the girl, itching to try to help.

"I promised her I'd make sure she was safe," Jason answered. He looked at Pythagoras blankly. "You have to help her."

Pythagoras knelt down at the side of the child, knowing in his heart that the location of the arrow meant that it was probably already too late. On the opposite side of the girl a middle aged woman fell to her knees, tears streaming down her face.

"Amathea," she sobbed. "I sent her out to find some bread," she said desperately. "The stalls near the Temple had all run out but I had heard that there were some nearer to the city walls that still had bread for sale… Please… my daughter… please."

Pythagoras bit his lip, tears already forming in his blue eyes. There was no discernible rise and fall to the girl's ruined chest and a quick, cursory touch with fingers more steady than he felt revealed no pulse. Unable to speak past the lump in his throat he shook his head slowly, bleakly. The answering wail from Amathea's mother told him that his meaning had been understood; there was nothing he could do here. The girl was already gone and there was nothing that Pythagoras could do to bring her back. He was vaguely aware of Jason drawing closer, his eyes burning into his friend. A middle aged man dropped down next to the girl's mother and blindly reached for the woman, drawing her into his arms to sob on his shoulder as he himself wept silently.

"I am so sorry," Pythagoras murmured in anguish. "I am so very sorry."

Unable to bear the couple's sorrow the mathematician looked back down at the girl, straightening her tumbled limbs and smoothing back her hair with one gentle hand. Someone would have to remove the arrow, he noted absently, but he hoped to the Gods it was not him. Finally he looked up again, eyes almost automatically seeking his friend. Jason was gone.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Once more I want to thank everyone for the lovely reviews and to hope that this chapter doesn't disappoint to much.
> 
> So it's the last episode of Atlantis tonight... and we're going to be left with yet more gameshows and "talent" competitions on a Saturday night. Oh well I guess that's me not bothering with telly any more then...
> 
> Anyway before the final double episode airs I thought I'd get this chapter published - so here it is! Let me know if you like it.

Jason darted back through the secret passageway that linked the Temple to the Palace with his mind in utter turmoil. He couldn't do this anymore; couldn't pretend that everything was alright; couldn't stay safely behind the walls of the Palace while _children_ were dying in the streets. He'd promised Amathea that she would be safe and he'd failed her. How many more people was he going to let down? How many more people might die while he was warm and safe and well fed? How could he ever face Amathea's parents? How could he ever face _himself_ again?

The young man raced down a fortunately deserted corridor and in through the doors of the chambers he had been given. He had been complacent; had allowed himself to be lulled by the comfortable surroundings; had wasted time that he should have been spending helping to defend the city and its occupants from the Amphigeneians. Well no more! He wouldn't – couldn't – sit back and do nothing. Couldn't stand back and watch the children of Atlantis suffering and dying. He stumbled slightly, out of breath from his headlong dash, stomach and mind churning, and suppressed a sob that threatened to bubble out of the back of his throat.

Hercules and Pythagoras would be deeply concerned if they could see him now, Jason thought bitterly; would think he was losing the plot again. He paused. Perhaps he was. Certainly he hadn't felt this off balance in some time now. Logically he knew that there was little he could have done to save Amathea even if he had been there yet it felt like it was somehow all his fault; like it was one more dead body to pile at his door. He had become hideously good at killing people in his time in Atlantis – had shown a natural aptitude as a warrior – but it still did not sit easily in his mind; still produced feelings of guilt whenever he allowed himself to stop and think about what he did.

Yet wasn't he thinking of going out and robbing more mothers of their sons right now? Wasn't he going out onto the streets with the intention of fighting? Maiming? Killing? No he wasn't, he decided. He was going out with the intention of defending his city; his home. He was not intending to look for a battle but if the Amphigeneians attacked once more he would not back away from it; would not let them hurt anyone that he cared about while there was still breath left in his body.

Absently Jason stripped off the tunic he was wearing and slipped back into his old clothes; the breastplate, ill-fitting though it was, felt almost like a second skin as he laced it in place – it was so familiar. Slipping the strap of his sword over his head, he loosened it in the scabbard, automatically checking that he would be able to draw it at speed if it proved necessary, the hilt comfortingly solid in his hand. If he was going to do this – if he was going to go and face whatever the Amphigeneians could throw at him – he was going to go there looking and feeling like himself again.

Part of Jason recognised that perhaps he wasn't thinking completely rationally right at this moment; was once again allowing his heart to rule his head; was being driven forwards by his tangled emotions. That part also told him that neither the King nor Queen would be totally happy with him. Still, he thought grimly, they'd get over it. He couldn't for a minute believe that they'd be _that_ concerned by his departure – no matter how worried his mother had seemed while he was ill. After all he was pretty much back to full strength now – alright so he _did_ get a _little_ breathless when he went out in the cold and his chest _did_ still tighten annoyingly from time to time but on the whole he was pretty much well. It wasn't as if he couldn't look after himself either. Surely his mother and stepfather would realise that? Plus it wasn't as if he'd agreed to stay with them beyond the end of the Amphigeneian siege. There was no way that either of them could be particularly attached to him at all.

 _Who are you trying to convince?_ Once again the voice of reason in his head sounded like Chloe. _You know she cares. You know_ they _care._

Jason shook his head stubbornly. He couldn't afford to let himself believe that either his mother or stepfather felt anything towards him besides gratitude at the fact that he had stayed to help them with the current Amphigeneian problem (not that he thought he had had much choice in the matter – surely he had only done what anyone would do under the circumstances?); couldn't yet risk believing in them in any way knowing that there was still a chance that they would lose interest at the end of it all (that had happened far too many times with far too many people); needed to believe that they had only the vaguest of benevolent feelings towards him for his own protection. It had been hard enough to trust his two closest friends with his heart without offering it up to two people who he still didn't know all that well.

 _For a supposedly intelligent boy you can be remarkably dense at times,_ the reasonable part of him remarked with amusement. _Why would she have sat on the edge of the bed with you snuggled up against her if she didn't love you? And why would you have let it happen if you didn't feel the same? She's changing... you can sense it… and so are you. You're not the loner that you were once upon a time. You've let too many people inside your defences to go back to the way you used to be… and you can't push them back out and shut the door now… no matter what you tell yourself._

"Shut up," Jason muttered to himself. "I don't have time to think about this now."

He really didn't, he told himself. There was far too much at stake for him to be thinking about anything other than protecting the people he cared for, defending the city that he had made home and keeping the promises he had made. He had promised to protect the little girls from the other night and he had failed – had failed to protect Amathea – but he was damned if he would fail to keep the other girls safe as long as he was still on his feet and breathing. Actually he was probably damned anyway. Certainly he wasn't entirely sure that the Gods liked him very much; they definitely seemed to throw enough problems in his direction.

He shook himself. Standing here contemplating his own existence was not helping anyone. Checking his sword one last time Jason slipped back out into the corridor outside his chamber, grateful of the fact that the time he had spent here had at least given him a better idea of the layout of the Palace and how to avoid the guards.

Amazingly the corridors were much more deserted than he was expecting. At the end of the family wing he turned a corner and ran slap bang into two servants coming the other way, making the younger of the two drop the load of linen she was carrying. One of them was Orithyia who took in the way he was dressed with one raised eyebrow even as her young companion began to stammer apologies, clearly expecting to be punished. Jason hurried to reassure her even as he eyed the corridor behind her longingly, knowing that the longer he lingered the more chance there was that he would be caught by someone he would rather avoid – his mother for example.

"I am so sorry My Lord," the young girl said. "I should be more careful. Please forgive me."

"It was my fault," Jason answered earnestly. "I wasn't looking where I was going."

He bent down to help her pick up the sheets she had dropped only to find that the girl's eyes went as wide as saucers and she started to desperately grab at the clean linen, seeming almost on the verge of tears.

"Please My Lord you mustn't," the girl begged.

Jason frowned.

"I made you drop them so it only seems right that I help you pick them up," he said firmly.

If anything though his attempt to reassure the young servant only made her movements more frantic.

"It is the job of a servant to attend to the needs of the nobility and their guests," Orithyia murmured softly. "Sappho and I will be punished if anyone sees you helping us." She bent down herself and helped the young maid to collect up her fallen bundle as Jason watched them helplessly. "I'll join you in a minute," she told the girl. "There's a matter I need to attend to first."

Once Sappho had gone past Jason, dropping a brief curtsey as she went and nearly losing her load once again in the process, Orithyia turned to the young man with a knowing look.

"You are going out My Lord?" she asked softly.

"Yes," Jason answered. "I also have a matter I need to attend to."

"And does your mother know that you are leaving Your Highness?" the older servant asked. She nearly laughed out loud at Jason's dumbfounded look.

"How did you? I mean I'm not…"

Orithyia smiled.

"I have been a servant in this Palace since before you were born," she answered gently. "There's not much that happens here that I'm not aware of. You looked familiar from the moment I saw you but it took me a bit of time to place you… It wasn't until I saw you with the Queen that I worked out why you looked so familiar; that I worked out who you were. You have the look of your family about you My Lord."

"Nobody knows," Jason said urgently. "Nobody is supposed to know."

"Then I'll keep it to myself," Orithyia said. "One thing you learn working in a place like this is how to keep things to yourself. I know I seem like I gabble on all the time but I do know how to keep a secret."

"Thank you," Jason answered.

"The Queen doesn't know you're leaving though does she?" the servant asked.

Jason looked at the floor and bit his lip, shaking his head quickly. He looked up again at Orithyia with imploring eyes.

"There's something I have to do," he answered softly. "I don't think she'd understand."

"Mothers understand many things My Lord," Orithyia said gently.

"You won't tell anyone that you've seen me." It came out as half command and half plea.

Orithyia drew in a sharp breath. The young man as putting her in a horrible position. There was no way she could defy an order given by a prince of the blood but equally she could not afford to run the risk of drawing the ire of either the King or, perhaps more importantly, the Queen. Still, she reflected, she had not actually been informed that the Queen's son was not allowed to leave.

"If I am asked I will not lie," she answered slowly. "I _will_ tell them I have seen you… but if I am not asked I will say nothing."

"Thank you," Jason said earnestly. He hesitated. "You won't get into any trouble though will you? I wouldn't want you getting into trouble on my account."

Orithyia smiled.

"Do not worry My Lord," she responded. "I have not been informed that you are not allowed to leave the Palace. If I am asked I will tell the truth… I will tell them that I have seen you but that you did not see fit to tell me where you were going… only that there was a matter that required your attention."

"Thank you," Jason said again. He slipped past the servant and began to head off down the corridor.

"I hope it is worth it." Orithyia's voice followed him.

Jason stopped and turned back.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"I hope that whatever it is you are doing is worth the worry and upset it will cause… Your Highness," Orithyia answered.

"I hardly think anyone will be worried about me," Jason answered.

"Oh child," Orithyia retorted with a wry smile. "You have so much to learn."

With that she turned and headed in the opposite direction, following Sappho and returning to her duties.

Jason stared after her for a minute. She had to be wrong. Although his mother had been worried when he had been ill, and even Minos had shown more concern that Jason would have imagined, she would surely not be that concerned by his departure now. After all she knew he could look after himself didn't she? He hesitated, more conflicted and confused than ever. Then he shook himself. He had promises to keep and duties to fulfil. The sooner he left the better.

Keeping to the shadows at the sides of the corridor it was easy enough to evade the guards. There were, after all, plenty of pillars he could slip behind and plenty of alcoves and doorways he could duck into. All in all getting out of the Palace was far easier than it should have been. For a moment Jason paused and frowned. He had thought that after his little night-time trip to the Temple Minos had ordered the security on the Palace be increased but it had still been frighteningly simple to escape. Instead of using the main Palace doors he had found his way to the side entrance that Korinna had let him in through so many months ago when he had been searching for Demetria. He had expected it to be guarded – had expected all the entrances to be guarded – and had been trying to work out just how he could get over that particular obstacle. He could hardly imagine he would simply be able to talk his way past the sentinel and none of the guards had yet been told of his identity and would not therefore be necessarily inclined to listen to him.

Under the circumstances it was a bit of a shock to discover that the entrance was completely unguarded. Jason's frown deepened. It seemed distinctly imprudent given that the city was under attack. Perhaps he should find someone and tell them? But then who could he tell? Who would believe him? At least this entrance was a non-descript doorway that led out into a little used side street far below the main body of the Palace. With one last shake of his head Jason headed out into the streets, heading for the lower town and the battle on the city walls.

* * *

A thin man slipped through the woods that bordered the city on one side. He shivered to himself as the biting wind caught at him cruelly and pulled his threadbare cloak a little tighter around himself; drawing on it both for meagre warmth and to try to cover the fine clothes he was wearing beneath. He grimaced sourly thinking of the fine, warm cloak in his rooms. If all went according to plan, however, it would be well worth it. Ahead of him was the clearing where he was to meet his master – the reason why he was risking everything to be here. Even with Atlantis on high alert there were always ways for a resourceful man to get out of the city and he was nothing if not resourceful; had survived too many years in the cut-throat world of political power to be anything else. The most recent attack on the city walls had been well timed to distract the defenders and allow him a brief window to leave the city, complete his errand and return without being caught.

Now he concealed himself near a tree at the edge of the clearing and waited. He did not have to wait for long. From between the trees a figure appeared; the figure of a large man wrapped in a forest green cloak, the hood pulled up to hide his face. If it weren't for the fact that the silver border of the cloak caught the light every so often it would have been difficult to see him against the backdrop of the trees in the fading light of early evening. The thin man stepped out from his place of concealment.

"Good evening My Lord," he said unctuously.

"Well?" His companion demanded harshly. "You have news for me?"

"Everything goes to plan Your Majesty. The city will soon be in your grasp."

"So you keep assuring me," Anaxandros growled, "and yet I am still outside the walls of Atlantis and its people still defy me."

"Soon, My Lord. Soon you will have everything you desire," the thin man answered soothingly. "There have been certain plans that needed to be put into place but all is in readiness now. By morning you will be inside the city and Minos will be under your heel."

"He does not suspect you at all?"

The thin man allowed himself a brief smile.

"No," he answered. "He believes me to be completely loyal. I have laughed behind his back. He is a man whose paranoia knows no bounds and yet he has never once looked in my direction."

"Hmm," Anaxandros said shooting the man a shrewd look. "Minos believes you to be completely loyal… but who are you truly loyal to I wonder?"

"Why to you My Lord," the thin man murmured obsequiously. "I have proved my loyalty to you over and over again. Do you forget that when Aeson was King I arranged matters so that you might have time alone in the royal nursery? I dispatched the infant Prince's nursemaid myself. I even managed to make it seem as though she had died of a simple fever…"

"And you were well paid for it," Anaxandros answered sharply, "I am all too aware that your first and only true loyalty is to your own pocket. Why should I trust a man whose loyalty can be bought and sold?"

"I am taking a great risk here," the thin man protested. "I am a member of the royal council; one of the King's inner circle. If I am caught Minos would not hesitate to condemn me to a traitor's death; he would see me burn in the brazen bull. My fate is tied to yours. I _am_ loyal to you."

"Only because you believe that you will achieve greater power in my court than Minos'," Anaxandros stated flatly. "You dream of becoming my chancellor – my chief advisor – and of the power and wealth that will bring you."

The thin man hesitated.

"It is true that I look forwards to taking up my position within your court," he admitted. "Although I would never be so presumptuous as to suggest to Your Majesty what that position should be… I shall merely be grateful to receive what little reward you see fit to bestow upon me My Lord."

Anaxandros stared at him through narrowed eyes.

"It is in both our interests that I should succeed in taking Atlantis then," he growled.

"Indeed."

"How is _dear_ Minos?" the Amphigeneian King snarled.

"Under increasing pressure," the thin man answered. "The longer the siege continues and the more citizens that are killed the harder it becomes for him. He is already looking tired and distracted."

"And the Queen?" Anaxandros asked, all too aware of the fearsome reputation of the Atlantian Queen.

"She has been preoccupied by the recent illness of her son. I understand that she hardly left his side at first and has been concerning herself with his health and well-being… it has been most fortuitous in allowing me to make arrangements whilst the focus of both the King and Queen has been elsewhere."

"The brat has recovered then?" Anaxandros spat. "I suspected he would have by now even though I had hoped he might not. I should have coated the blade more thoroughly but the dose was designed to remove the weakling Minos and not an apparently healthy boy." He gave the thin man a hard look. "I would have been better prepared if I had known of the brat's existence beforehand."

"And I would have willingly informed you if I had had the time to do so," his companion said ingratiatingly. "Minos only informed us of the boy's existence a scant two days before our meeting and you know that I cannot always get away to meet with you. I had no time to arrange such a meeting and no way of getting news to you at that moment. Minos' eyes were upon all the members of his inner council to ensure that we did not give away the secret of the boy's presence. Any action on my part may have been detected and would inevitably have led to my downfall… and placed all our plans in jeopardy. As things were though everything worked out for the best – if the boy had died the Queen would have grieved as is only natural… yet given her nature that grief would have been both private and postponed until after this present situation was resolved. The boy's illness removed her attention from affairs of state at a crucial juncture. It was better this way… and as soon as you are inside the city you can take steps to remove him permanently."

Anaxandros grunted.

"And how, precisely, am I to get inside the city?" he asked acidly. "You speak of my forces entering Atlantis tonight and of Minos being beneath my heel by morning but as yet you have offered no intelligence for how such an event might be achieved. You speak of plans being made but I am none the wiser. Speak plainly now or you will pay the price."

"Patience My Lord," the thin man countered. "You must have patience. One of the guards who is on duty at the great Telapius Gate tonight has a lover who is still outside the city walls – if she is still alive at all that is. He has received word, supposedly from his paramour, that she and her family have managed to escape the wrath of your army and have been hiding in the mountains. He has been told that the woman has journeyed to Atlantis and is now hiding in the woods near the city, but is in constant danger from your forces. He is a foolish man who has believed the trick… he wishes to believe that his lover is still alive when she is almost certainly in Hades. It took little manipulation to persuade him to leave the city tonight in search of her. As he wishes to return to Atlantis with his lover he will be leaving via a sally port near to the gateway which he will leave unlatched for his return. Send men through the sally port and they will be able to open the Telapius Gate to the rest of your army before most of the Atlantian army is aware of what is happening. They will be in the city before you know it."

"That is all well and good and will undoubtedly get my army into the lower town but I fail to see how you can be certain that I will defeat Minos in one night," the Amphigeneian King growled. "Surely the Atlantian army will fight all the harder when their homes are at stake? And in the close quarters of the streets my advantage of numbers will be of less importance. I have no doubt that my forces will overwhelm the Atlantians eventually but I cannot see how this will be achieved this night."

"Indeed… and if this were the only way into the city I would be less certain of the outcome. It is not the whole plan, however. While your forces battle the Atlantian army in the lower city and distract them, you and a force of men will slip behind them and take the Palace directly. Once Minos is taken his men will rapidly surrender. They will be demoralised and annihilated."

"How is this to be done?"

"There are tunnels beneath the city… drainage channels that lead beneath the walls of Atlantis and out into the forest. I will show you the entrance to them from outside the city walls and arrange for the door to access them to be left open. They are too small to take an entire army through," the thin man said, forestalling Anaxandros' next question, "but are more than large enough for you to lead a body of men through that will be more than adequate for taking the Palace. Once you are out of the tunnels turn left and take the second alley on the right. Halfway down it on the left-hand side is a door. It is one of the many back entrances to the Palace – a servants entrance – and is always forgotten when the guards are set. The current Captain of the Palace Guard is a man of little intelligence and has to be reminded where all the doors of the Palace are – this one is one which he can never seem to remember… which is to our advantage. While the main army is distracted by the attack in the lower town, you will be outflanking them and taking the throne. By the time anyone realises what has happened it will be too late… and the beauty of it is that they will simply believe that you entered the city through the Telapius Gate and managed to get around the defences – you will be able to keep your knowledge of the tunnels secret in case you need to use them again someday."

"This is well done," Anaxandros murmured. "Perhaps you are not wholly useless to me after all. Now show me where the entrance to these tunnels are."

"Of course Your Majesty," the thin man said. He hesitated before going on. "Everything must be timed to perfection, however. The love-struck guard will leave the city when the moon is at its highest. Set men to watch the gateway and they will see the sally port he leaves by – it is well hidden to the unsuspecting eye. You must not enter the tunnels until your forces are through the gates and engaged in fighting... but undoubtedly you will have a means by which your men can give you a signal. For now though we must hurry. I will show you the entrance to the tunnels but then I must return to the city before I am missed. I have much to do before tonight is over."

* * *

"Where is he?" Pasiphae hissed with increasing rage as she paced around the family room.

"He will be found my love," Minos answered as reasonably as he could manage. He knew that most of his wife's anger stemmed from worry and as such could not begrudge her. Jason had much to answer for, he decided grimly; the boy would swiftly learn that worrying his mother was unacceptable. He would be found and brought back to face the wrath of his parents whether he liked it or not.

"I have been too lenient with him," Pasiphae seethed. "He is too wilful. I will make sure that he learns to do as he is told."

Minos fought the urge to wince at her tone. Cross though he himself was at his stepson's hasty departure he would still not wish to be in the young man's shoes when his mother got hold of him.

"Perhaps he had good reason to leave," Minos murmured placatingly. "I have sent for his friend. No doubt he will be able to tell us more."

It had been something of a nasty surprise to come back into the main body of the Temple from consulting with the Oracle to be pounced upon by Pasiphae and informed that her son was apparently missing. One of the guards believed he had seen the boy heading towards the passageway back to the Palace, moving at speed. Minos frowned. The guards might not have specifically known who Jason was but they were aware that he had arrived in the company of the royal family. Plus there were standing orders that no-one but a member of the immediate family was to use the passageway unescorted. The King would therefore have expected the guard to have at least made some attempt to stop Jason and to have brought him to the King or Queen for further instructions. The fact that had not happened worried Minos almost as much as his stepson's current whereabouts – because he _was_ worried about the boy even if he forced himself to hide it for his wife's sake. The guards were apparently not as diligent in their duties as the King would like and he wondered anew just what he would have to do to make them more aware.

"You told him that he was to stay in the Temple until we were ready to leave," Pasiphae continued icily. "You gave him and order and he disobeyed. I trusted him. I trusted his sense of honour. I will not make that mistake again! Even if I have to station a guard at his side at all times – at the door to his room while he sleeps – I will ensure that my son obeys instructions… or he will answer to me!"

Before Minos could move to attempt to calm his wife – futile though that might appear to be at present – a diffident tap at the door heralded the arrival of Pythagoras. At first the King had believed that wherever he was Jason had left the Temple in the company of his younger friend. After all he knew that they had been there together yet when he had returned from his visit to the Oracle they had both been gone. On returning to the Palace, however, a swift query to a passing servant had revealed that the young mathematician had arrived only minutes before the King and Queen (who had taken the shorter route through the passage) and had hurried to his friend's chambers, clearly searching for Jason. Minos had therefore sent for him in the hope that the young man might be able to shed some light on Jason's disappearance and current whereabouts.

Pythagoras entered the room slinging the strap of a sword over his head as he came. Minos wasn't entirely sure where the boy had got it as he knew that of the three men this was the one who had been unarmed when he arrived in the Palace. Perhaps he had retrieved it from home at some point in the last few days? Or perhaps he had borrowed it from a guard. It did not really matter the King supposed and yet he found the sight of this thin and pale young man (who from what he had learned over the time that the mathematician had been staying in the Palace was extremely intelligent and remarkably gentle) under arms jarring. Somehow the boy did not look right with a sword and yet there was a determination about him that told the King he would not back down if the situation demanded it.

"You sent for me Your Majesty," he said softly, casting a nervous look at the fuming Pasiphae.

"Indeed," Minos answered. "I wish to ascertain the whereabouts of my stepson. I believe he was with you at the Temple but appears to have left at some point despite being instructed to remain where he was until we were all ready to return to the Palace. Given that he no longer appears to be here either I am left with the unpleasant conclusion that he has run off into the city somewhere, once again against my orders. I believe that you may have some insight into this matter."

Pythagoras gulped.

"I do not know where Jason is," he began.

"No," Minos agreed quickly, "but you are preparing to go in search of him are you not?"

Pythagoras did not bother to disagree.

"I do have to wonder though what would make Jason leave so suddenly," Minos continued.

"I believe he was upset and not thinking altogether clearly Your Majesty," Pythagoras murmured, feeling almost as though he was betraying his friend by speaking to the King in this way. It was illogical and irrational because he had only ever had Jason's best interests at heart but somehow he couldn't help but feel that way.

The King glanced at his wife, his own brow furrowing with confusion and concern. Pasiphae was listening intently, her dark eyes burning into the young mathematician with a frightening intensity.

"And what had upset him so much?" she asked sharply.

Pythagoras sighed.

"When the wounded from the latest attack on the walls were brought in an injured soldier arrived carrying a girl," he admitted. "She was only a child; just twelve or thirteen I would think. She'd been hit in the chest by an arrow." He looked at the floor. "I knew as soon as I saw her that there would be little that could be done for her but Jason begged me to try. I went over to her but there was nothing that I could do; she was already gone. By the time I looked up Jason wasn't there anymore."

"It is a sad story indeed," Minos murmured, "but why would it affect Jason so badly that he chose to ignore the orders he had been given?" He favoured Pythagoras with an acute look.

"The girl was the eldest of the children that we helped to rescue from the slavers the night before Jason found out who his parents were My Lord," Pythagoras answered. "He had promised her that he would protect her; that he would keep her safe. I believe that Jason will be feeling guilty about what he sees as his failure to keep his promise." The young mathematician hesitated briefly before ploughing on. "Jason takes promises very seriously," he explained quietly. "He will do anything to keep them. I think that he will believe that there was more he could have done. It is not true of course but it is Jason's nature to feel guilty for things that are often beyond his control. The child was near the walls trying to buy bread for her family. Jason will only see the fact that he was safe in the Palace while a little girl he had promised to protect was out in the streets and in danger. His nature is to protect; to defend the weak; and to help other people wherever he can. He will feel he has failed… that he has been selfish." He sighed. "He is one of the least selfish people I have ever met and is by far one of the noblest but he does not see his own worth. He will jump in and risk his life again and again without another thought. No matter how hard we have tried neither Hercules nor I have ever been able to convince Jason that his life is as important as anyone else's; that he is _more_ important to _us_."

"I understand that my son may feel some sort of misplaced guilt over the death of this child; that he might feel sorrow for her loss. But I still fail to see why he would have run off into the streets like this. What does he hope to accomplish?" Pasiphae's tone was both sharp and incredulous.

"I do not think he knows what he is trying to do My Lady," Pythagoras answered slowly, looking nervously at the Queen. "Jason has a tendency to allow his heart to rule his head… particularly when he is distressed… and a history of trying to find a place to be alone when he is upset; of attempting to find a secluded place to shut himself off from the world. He has done this before… although last time was under very different circumstances and I will admit that on that occasion I was far more worried for his wellbeing than I am now."

"Why?" Pasiphae snapped. "We are under siege. People are dying on the streets and you are not concerned that Jason is out there with them? What kind of friend are you?"

"One that trusts Jason My Lady," Pythagoras answered firmly. "He is brave, he is strong, he is stubborn and he is far from stupid. Jason may not always appear to have much instinct for self-preservation but if there is one thing that I have learned it is that he is a survivor. He has seen more than his share of the darker side of life and come through it. The last time that he sought seclusion he was in a very dark place – at his most vulnerable. He was ill and alone and believed that his presence was unwanted… he was wrong but he was not at the time in a position to see that. This time he is aware of his place in our lives; aware of his place in our family. This time I do not fear that he will lose himself so utterly. This time I do not fear his intentions." He looked seriously at Pasiphae. "You ask if I am not concerned that Jason is out in the streets with a battle raging Your Majesty. Of course I am… and I wish more than anything to be allowed to go and find him… to be there with him. Yet I still find that I do not fear for Jason in the way I did before. I trust him and I believe in him."

Pasiphae stepped away from the young genius and sank down onto a couch. It was startling to see just how vulnerable she looked in that moment and Pythagoras could not help the surge of pity that ran through him as he looked at her. Part of him could not believe his own audacity for daring to speak to her in the manner that he had and yet he believed that she needed to understand Jason's current behaviour; that she needed to be told the truth. The Queen closed her eyes and lowered her head for a moment. When she raised it again all trace of vulnerability was gone and she was once again the fearsome woman that the people of Atlantis knew.

"Tell me," she said sharply, "what had happened for my son to act in the way you have described… what caused him to lose himself in that way?"

Pythagoras gulped.

"I cannot tell you My Lady," he said nervously.

"Cannot or will not?" Pasiphae demanded.

"It is not my story to tell," Pythagoras countered. "You must get the story from Jason… if he wishes to tell you."

"I am his mother. I have a right to know."

"Yes," the young genius said softly. "You _are_ Jason's mother Your Majesty… and I am his friend. I will not betray his confidence. Too many people have let Jason down over the years and I will _not_ be one of them."

"Your loyalty is touching," Pasiphae responded with just a hint of her usual sarcasm. "Yet what would you say I wonder if the King ordered you to tell this tale?"

Pythagoras swallowed hard again but raised his chin and looked the Queen full in the face.

"I would respectfully have to refuse My Lady," he answered with far more calmness than he felt inside.

"To refuse an order from the King would be treason," Pasiphae said, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully.

"I know," the mathematician admitted. "But I cannot and will not betray Jason. It is a part of his life that is hard for him to speak of but it is _his_ story to tell and it must be _his_ decision to tell it. It took a long time for Jason to trust me completely. I think you know a little of his past and can probably appreciate why that is. I am not willing to jeopardise that trust in any way and I will not let him down now… not after everything we have been through together."

"And I will not ask it of you," Minos declared, blatantly ignoring his wife's furious look. Pasiphae was not used to being denied in this way but the King was not about to allow her to take out her temper, caused by worry for her son, on this innocent young man. "You believe that you will be able to find Jason?"

"I do not know," Pythagoras admitted, "although I have had some success in the past. I would like the chance to try though."

"Then we will not detain you," Minos stated.

Pythagoras turned to leave. His first course of action should be to look for Hercules he decided; he and the big man complimented each other so well that to go looking for Jason without Hercules was unthinkable – although he did not like to think what the burly wrestler's reaction would be when he discovered that Jason was once again missing. Hercules should not be hard to find, however. Pythagoras knew only too well that he had gone to see Meriones; had gone to gain a true picture of the state of the city rather than the one that Jason had relayed to them that had already been filtered through both the King and his advisors before it reached them. It would be a good place to start the blonde decided – even if Hercules was no longer with him, Meriones might at least know where he had gone to.

"Pythagoras."

Pasiphae's voice stopped him in his tracks. He tried not to tremble at the fact that the Queen apparently knew his name (which to his mind could not be a good thing) and turned to face her with as much calm as he could muster.

"Find Jason," Pasiphae instructed, her tone brooking no refusal. Pythagoras knew she would not accept failure in this matter. "Bring him back."

* * *

Jason ran down a narrow side street, boots slipping and sliding in the mud. The storms that had lashed Atlantis on and off for weeks now had turned the usually hard packed, dry and dusty streets into slick mud, churned up by cartwheels and feet alike. A short, sharp rain shower that had hit shortly after Jason had left the Palace had worsened the road conditions even further and made footing treacherous, particularly for someone trying to move at speed. Jason forced himself to slow down slightly. The last thing he needed right now would be to slip and turn an ankle or, even worse, reinjure his knee – especially as it was finally almost healed.

He hadn't really intended to start running at all of course but as soon as he was out on the streets he had felt a burning urge to put as much distance between himself and the Palace as he possibly could – Orithyia's suggestion that he might cause consternation and worry by leaving eating at him. Surely no-one would be that concerned? Yet he had suddenly found himself desperately needing to put as much distance between himself and his mother as possible before she found out that he wasn't there. It wasn't that he was afraid of her in any way – had come to believe that she really did mean him no harm and could feel the bond that was forming between them growing a little more each day – but part of him still worried about what would happen if he really upset her.

Finally he skidded to a stop and bent over, hands on his knees as he desperately tried to gulp more air into his screaming lungs, burning with lack of oxygen. The overly tight feeling in his chest made him grimace as a sharp cough threatened to bubble up from his lungs – a clear indication that he was not as fit as he would like to be. The rain shower had taken him by surprise and his clothes clung to him, uncomfortably damp and unpleasant. The cold air of the winter day seemed to catch at his skin, already chilled by the damp cloth, and made him shudder – chilling him to the bone. He had left without a cloak again and both Hercules and Pasiphae would undoubtedly be cross – although under the circumstances he couldn't help thinking that a cloak would only get in his way.

As he finally caught his breath, Jason looked up and around himself trying to work out where he was. The answer came fairly quickly: The Sacred Way – and not all that far down it either, only just in the lower town. He scowled. He had not managed to get as far as he would have liked before breathlessness had overtaken him and that annoyed him. It had been days since he had been poisoned. Surely he should be back to full strength by now?

Where exactly was he heading anyway? In his desperate need to _do something_ – to stop other children suffering the same fate as Amathea – he hadn't actually stopped to think about where he was going to go and what he was going to do. The voice of reason in his head (which currently sounded an awful lot like Pythagoras) suggested that maybe going back and finding his friends would be a much better idea than charging off with little idea of destination and no fixed plan in his mind. Jason scowled again at the thought. Truth be told he would really like to find somewhere quiet for a short time where he could get his head together away from the constant scrutiny at the Palace. That wasn't likely to happen any time soon though. Perhaps his best bet was to head down towards the city walls and see if there was anything for him to do down there. He really couldn't bring himself to just sit back and do nothing for a moment longer.

Having decided where he was going, Jason pushed himself up to stand properly. As he did the uncomfortable sensation of being watched came over him and he scanned the street around him with narrowed eyes. Before he really knew what was happening, however, his upper arm was grasped firmly and he was yanked sharply into a dark alleyway, a second large hand coming up to cover his nose and mouth to prevent any outcry. It all happened so quickly that Jason didn't have chance to react. Without ceremony he was spun around and shoved back first into a wall, and found himself face to face with a pair of burning eyes.

* * *

Minos stood in the window of his private working chamber; the space where the King of Atlantis oversaw the day to day running of his Kingdom and completed any written tasks that were required of him. Night had fallen and the moon was riding high in the sky. In the distance smoke wreathed up from the walls, mute evidence of the battle to defend the city from the Amphigeneian army. Minos frowned deeply as he looked out over his city, mind half preoccupied with thoughts of what must inevitably be happening on the walls, while the other half went over the meeting that he had just had with General Dion.

The arrival of the big general had been a surprise. Minos had expected him to be with his men in the thick of the action. In fact a lull in the fighting – a brief pause while the Amphigeneians regrouped after yet another failed attack – had allowed Dion to personally escort some of the wounded back from the front of the battle and to make a report to his King.

The news he had brought had made grim listening. The walls still held and the soldiers and conscripted citizens still defended them but they were growing increasingly tired and the thin line of defenders was becoming more and more overstretched as they had to fill in the gaps left by the wounded and dead. The Amphigeneians themselves were clearly suffering heavy casualties but their sheer advantage of numbers was beginning to tell. While the situation was far from desperate yet it was more serious than Minos had been letting on to his family. The walls of Atlantis would hold he was sure – with or without the arrival of their allies – but at what cost? In a city already depleted by disease would this siege prove disastrous to the population?

Minos sighed as dark thoughts gripped him. Dion had urged the King to take his family and retreat to the Temple. The great building only had one main way in and out after all (given that the presence of the passageway linking the Temple to the Palace was a closely guarded secret known only to a few people) whereas the Palace had many entrances. Although it was large, strategically speaking the Temple was by far the more defensible of the two buildings and as a last resort there was a hidden passage (whose exact location was known only to the Oracle and the High Priest) that led from the Inner Sanctum underneath the city walls and linked to the passages under the city itself. It could provide an escape route if the situation became dire. Idly Minos wondered if that was how Aeson had managed to smuggle his infant son away from the city in the first place.

The King had balked at his general's suggestion. He could see no reason to worry his wife and daughter unnecessarily at this point in time. There was as yet no suggestion that the Amphigeneians might break into the city and even if by some misfortune they did manage to make it into the lower town they would still have to fight their way through the streets and into the Citadel itself.

Minos sighed. There had been a time not so many years ago when he would have been leading his men from the front – much as he had in the civil war. Now though his health was far from what he had once enjoyed and his constitution less than robust. Age and infirmity, it seemed, were creeping up on him faster than many men of his age. His warrior spirit longed to do battle once more but his rational mind knew that it was no longer a sensible idea (not that it ever had been he supposed) and that his place was here in the Palace.

Dion had been despatched back to the city walls with the promise that the King would consider his urgings – although Minos had no intention of acting upon them at the moment. He had also been asked to keep an eye out for the Queen's wayward son and to drag the boy back to face his parents if he found him. Jason, Minos felt, would not be able to evade them for too long.

* * *

"What in the name of the Gods are you doing here?" Hercules hissed still pinning his young friend against the alley wall.

Jason blinked in surprise. He really hadn't been expecting to run into Hercules here, although on reflection he probably ought to have remembered that the burly wrestler had come into the city to see Meriones.

"I can't sit back and do nothing any more Hercules," he said softly.

Hercules frowned. Jason had that rebellious look that he got when he was about to do something heroic (and quite possibly monumentally stupid) but his eyes were in turmoil. The big man's frown deepened. Something had happened that he didn't yet know about and he had the horrible feeling that it was going to be down to him to stop Jason from diving headfirst into yet another misadventure – to talk him down from whatever ledge he was on right now – without falling foul of the young man's stubbornness.

"What happened?" he asked more gently, loosening his grip on his friend only to place a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"They killed her," Jason answered numbly.

"Who?"

"Amathea," Jason said. "She was just a little girl and they killed her."

Hercules tried to get a handle on what his friend was telling him but somehow it didn't seem to make sense.

"Jason," he said kindly. "Start at the beginning and tell me what happened… because you're really not making all that much sense at the moment."

Jason swallowed and closed his eyes for a moment.

"We'd gone to the Temple," he murmured. "The Oracle had… sent for me. Only Minos wanted to see her first so Pythagoras and I were waiting. Cassie was there with her father so I took her over to meet Ariadne… you should have seen her face…" he broke off with a fragile half smile at the thought.

"Go on," Hercules encouraged.

"There was an alarm. The horns started again… you'd think I'd be used to them by now. So I asked Ariadne to stay with Cassie while I went to see that everything was alright… checked what was going on. I got near the Temple door and Pythagoras joined me. They were just bringing in the wounded from the walls. The healers took them all off to be looked at. Then the doors opened again and this soldier staggered in carry this bundle. He was hurt and dropped to his knees and put the bundle on the floor… only it wasn't a bundle… it was a little girl. It was Amathea."

Hercules looked at him blankly, not recognising the name.

"The eldest of the girls we rescued from the slavers," Jason said exasperatedly, irrationally annoyed that his friend did not remember the girl's name. He watched the understanding suddenly dawning on the big man's face and felt his breath begin to quicken as what had happened hit him all over again, clenching his hands by his sides as he tried to hold himself together, nails biting into his palms viciously. He could not afford to fall apart now, he told himself harshly, but his ragged breathing didn't seem to want to obey and his eyes burned with the effort of keeping hot tears at bay.

"Breathe," Hercules said gently, hands running up and down his friend's upper arms comfortingly. When Jason seemed to have a better grip on himself Hercules stepped back slightly, allowing his friend a little more space, although he left a supportive hand on the young man's shoulder. "There you go," he said. "Now what happened?"

"She'd been out to get bread for her parents and a stray arrow had hit her in the chest," Jason went on, trying to keep his voice as even as possible. "Pythagoras went to try to help her but there wasn't anything he could do; she'd already gone." He swallowed convulsively. "I couldn't stay," he admitted. "I couldn't just do nothing. I promised her that I'd save her; that I'd protect her; that I'd protect all of them… and I failed. I was sitting safe and warm in the Palace while she was dying in the street." He looked at Hercules – silently begging the big man to understand. "I can't do it anymore," he said desperately.

"Now you listen to me," Hercules rumbled. "Whatever happened to that little girl is not your fault. The only people to blame here are the Amphigeneians and their damned King for starting all of this. You couldn't have saved that child even if you'd been on the walls today… not that I think that you're fit to be on the walls anyway…"

"I'm fine," Jason protested.

"So you can tell me that you didn't get breathless running from the Palace to here can you?" Hercules asked with a raised eyebrow. "You can honestly tell me that your chest didn't tighten up? That when I spotted you, you weren't bent over gasping for air?" He watched Jason blush faintly in response. "Yeah that's what I thought," he said.

"Hercules," Jason began.

"What exactly were you planning on doing anyway?" Hercules asked, his voice growing sharper. "What good did you think it would do running off towards the walls? I'm guessing that's where you were going anyway…"

Before Jason could respond the sound of running feet was heard from the Sacred Way, approaching from the upper town. Hercules frowned.

"You stay there," he admonished Jason sternly as he turned to the entrance of the alleyway, needing to see what was going on.

The burly wrestler cautiously stuck his head out into the street. As he saw the owner of the running feet he swore. It was bad enough that Jason was out in the city right now without adding Pythagoras into the mix. The young mathematician spotted his friend and skidded to a halt, beaming.

"Hercules," he gasped urgently. "I came to find you. Jason's missing. He left the Palace."

"I know," Hercules growled. "I found him." He jerked a thumb back over his shoulder towards the alley.

Pythagoras blinked in astonishment and pushed past his bulky friend.

"Jason," he breathed. "Thank the Gods. When I looked up and you were gone I feared…" he broke off suddenly.

"You thought I'd lost the plot again didn't you?" Jason asked with a wry smile.

"No," Pythagoras answered softly. "I knew you were upset and would need to do something but I did not believe that you had suffered any sort of breakdown." He hesitated. "The Queen is rather upset," he said.

Jason winced.

"I didn't think anyone would be that bothered," he answered.

"The level of your ignorance and stupidity never fails to amaze me," Hercules grumbled. "After everything that's happened lately you really didn't think anyone would be worried if you left without so much as a by your leave? You're an idiot!"

"Hercules!" Pythagoras said sharply.

"You blithely go around risking your own life and health without ever thinking about how it might affect other people… about how it might affect the people who care about you," Hercules went on with growing anger, levelling a trembling finger at Jason. "I know you're upset about the girl and I understand that you feel like you have to do something but I'm sick and tired of you convincing yourself that no-one cares… that no-one will be upset if anything happens to you. You can't just run off into the wide blue yonder without thinking. That's your problem… that's always been your problem… you act before you think… you don't stop to consider what you might be doing to other people… and that ends right now. I swear I ought to put you over my knee right here in the street and tan your backside."

"Hercules, Jason obviously thought he was doing the right thing," Pythagoras attempted to placate the wrestler.

"Jason always thinks he's doing the right thing," Hercules rumbled.

"Jason is right here," Jason protested. "So you can both stop talking about me like I'm not!"

Pythagoras looked up at the sky.

"It's late," he observed to no-one in particular.

Hercules nodded.

"Right," he said, "we're going to go back to the Palace then and work out our next move without anyone running off and jumping headlong into disaster." He gave Jason a hard look. "I'm not saying we won't _do_ anything," he added, trying to forestall any protests from his headstrong companion, "but it's something we ought to be working out together."

"I can't sit back and do nothing," Jason retorted stubbornly. "I'm not going back to the Palace."

"Actually that's exactly where you _are_ going," a deep voice intruded.

The three men turned to see the impressive bulk of Dion standing in the entrance to the alley. Behind him were a couple of city guards. The big general regarded them with one faintly raised eyebrow.

"I have just come from the Palace," he said. "I am returning to the defence of the walls. Before I left, however, the King tasked me with returning you to the Palace if I should happen to come across you." He addressed Jason directly. "Apparently your parents are most anxious to discuss your disappearance with you." Dion was careful not to make any mention of just who Jason's parents were for fear of being overheard.

Jason winced again. This was one discussion he would gladly avoid if he could.

"Imagine my surprise," Dion went on, "on passing the end of this alleyway to hear raised voices and to realise that they belonged to the very young man I had been asked to find and his friends. Fortune appears to be smiling on me tonight. Now you will be returning to the Palace as the King has ordered even if I have to take you there myself."

Jason opened his mouth to respond. Before he could speak, however, the horns which had been blissfully silent since the end of the last attack blared again. It was a different call than had been used before and the two younger men exchanged a confused look before turning towards their older companions. Dion was frowning deeply, looking sharply down the Sacred Way. He turned to issue orders to the soldiers who were with him. Hercules had closed his eyes and swallowed hard. When he opened them again he found two pairs of eyes looking back at him in concern.

"What is going on?" Pythagoras asked. "What does that call mean?"

Hercules set his shoulders resolutely.

"It means the walls have been breached," he rumbled. "It means the Amphigeneians are inside the city."


	28. Chapter 28

Dion turned and glowered at his three companions before turning back to finish issuing orders to the two soldiers who had accompanied him from the Palace. Finally he turned back to Jason.

"I must get to the walls," he stated. "The defence of this city is in my hands and I _must_ know what is going on. You must return to the Palace. I cannot spare the men to accompany you but I will trust you to do as you have been ordered."

"No," Jason answered flatly. "I'm not going back to the Palace… not if the Amphigeneians are inside the city. This is my home and I will not see it fall to these savages. You're going to need every man you can get. I'll be coming with you."

"The King," Dion began.

"Is not here," Jason interrupted. "His orders were issued before the Amphigeneians got into Atlantis. The situation has changed and the only way you're going to get me back to the Palace is if you drag me there in chains."

"I don't have time for this," Dion growled. He gave Jason a hard look through narrowed eyes. "Very well," he said. "Come then but _stay close_ … I am not going to be the person that explains to your mother why you are not coming home."

Jason half smiled.

"If this goes badly none of us will be going home," he said softly.

"No," Dion agreed. "Come on."

He strode off down the street in the direction of the city walls. Jason turned to follow him only to find a restraining hand on his arm. He looked back over his shoulder at his friends and sighed.

"Jason," Hercules growled, allowing his hand to drop from the young man's arm.

"We have no choice," Jason said. "If they're in the city then we're all going to be fighting for our lives and I'd rather do it out here where I can see them coming than be trapped in the Palace and hunted."

"I know," Hercules answered. "It doesn't mean I have to like it though." He sighed. "Alright… let's all go and get killed together."

* * *

Anaxandros waited at the edge of the woods, staring intently out across the plain before the gates of Atlantis. Everything was going according to plan and he had watched both the departure of the Atlantian guard through the sally port and the entrance of his own forces into the city. As the guard had drawn near his troops, hiding in the woodland to await their chance at taking Atlantis, he had despatched a small force to take the man captive, ensuring that no premature alarm would be raised. A small group of Anaxandros' soldiers had then entered the sally port unopposed and the Amphigeneian King had waited with baited breath for the gates of the city to swing open. The wait had seemed interminable and he had growled at anyone who dared to come to close to him.

Finally the great Telapius Gate had swung inwards and the bulk of the Amphigeneian army had surged forwards like a great tidal wave, taking the Atlantian defenders completely by surprise. The fighting in the lower town would be fierce, Anaxandros knew and many men on both sides this night would not live to see the dawn. The advantage of numbers that the Amphigeneians had would be negated by the narrow streets of the city which would mean that the attacking army would be funnelled down and only able to come at the defenders a few at a time. In fact it was likely that the numbers actually fighting at any one time would be fairly evenly matched although undoubtedly the Atlantians would eventually be worn down by the numbers attacking them. Where their soldiers fell there would be no-one to replace them whereas the Amphigeneians would have reserves to spare. The city _would_ fall now that its walls had been breached – it was only a matter of time.

Anaxandros was impatient for it to be over, however. He wished to be inside the walls and securely on the throne in short order so that messengers might be despatched to Minos' allies to inform them that there was no point coming to his aid; that Anaxandros had taken the throne of Atlantis for the glory of the Amphigeneian Kingdom. Atlantis was wealthy and its assets would prove of great use to his impoverished Kingdom. It was as well, Anaxandros supposed, that no-one knew just how little was left in the coffers of Amphigeneia. Once the city was thoroughly in his grasp and Minos and his family safely dead he would send for his idiot son and install him as de facto ruler of the conquered city. It was an enticing thought.

For now though he forced himself to be still; forced himself to wait for the signal that his men had fully engaged the Atlantian forces – the signal that would tell him it was time to enter the tunnels beneath the city; time to bring Atlantis and its weak and pitiful King to its knees.

"Your Majesty." The voice of the captain he had chosen to bring with him to infiltrate the Palace provided an unwelcome interruption. Ceyx was a good soldier and a good officer and was certainly more intelligent than the man mountain Maro who Anaxandros had named as his champion – not that the siege would ever get that far. Still the King would rather have had his general at his side in the tunnels and later at the Palace but the man was required to lead the forces currently assaulting the city.

"What?" he growled.

Ceyx swallowed.

"The prisoner has grown restive. What are your orders?"

Anaxandros turned and gave a cruel smile.

"So he does not like our hospitality?" he asked humourlessly. "We shall have to see what we can do about that. Keep watch for the signal."

He strode back towards his men leaving Ceyx to watch the walls of Atlantis for the sign that it was time for them to make their way through the tunnels beneath the city.

The Atlantian city guard whose departure in search of his lost love was held between two of the Amphigeneian soldiers. He was young – little more than a boy really; a foolish, callow youth who could not have foreseen the consequence of his rash departure from the city. He was neither particularly attractive nor particularly clean, Anaxandros noted with a disdainful sniff of the air, with lank mud coloured hair and buck teeth. Anaxandros stepped forwards until he was almost up against the boy, using his large frame to loom over the young guard and physically intimidate him.

"I understand that I need to thank you," he purred. "Thanks to your… lust my men are inside your city. Atlantis is doomed and it is all down to you."

"I don't believe you," the young guard spat, fear and guilt filling his eyes. A smear of blood ran from his temple all the way down the side of his face and bruises were blooming on his cheekbone and jaw – mute testament to the struggle he had put up against his capture.

Anaxandros smiled coldly, drew back his fist and punched the prisoner in the stomach. The boy curled over as much as his captors hands would allow, all air driven from his lungs by the blow, gasping for breath.

"I am a King and you will address me with respect," Anaxandros continued in an apparently friendly manner.

"You are my enemy," the boy gasped, looking up at the Amphigeneian King with hate filled eyes. "You have invaded my country. You do not deserve my respect."

Anaxandros smiled and punched the young man again.

"Manners," he chided lightly. "I do not expect you to believe me so I will permit you to see with your own eyes what your folly has cost your city." He turned to the guards holding the prisoner. "Bring him," he ordered.

Returning to the vantage point where Ceyx stood watching the city Anaxandros waited as his men dragged the young guard over to him. He came up behind the boy and grasped his chin firmly, hand hard under the prisoner's jaw, half cutting off his air supply and forcing his head up until he was facing the city.

"Look at what you have done," the Amphigeneian King gloated as his men continued to pour in through the gates of Atlantis. "Look long and hard and think of how in years to come men will curse your name. You will be remembered forever for what has happened this day. Look at your city falling and remember that sight when you get to Hades."

Quick as a flash he drew a knife across the young prisoner's throat, sneering as the now limp body sagged in the arms of his soldiers and watching as they dropped him. With one swift and uncaring kick the boy's body was sent rolling down the bank upon which they stood to lie in a broken heap at the bottom. Anaxandros did not bother to spare him another glance; his whole attention was now fixed upon Atlantis. Finally he saw it; the signal had been given – it was time for them to begin.

"Come," he barked. "Let us go and bring Minos to his knees."

* * *

"My Lord!" The young soldier's voice was urgent.

Minos turned back from the window with a deepening frown. He had heard the change in the horn calls and had realised to his horror that the Amphigeneians had broken into the lower town. Still the situation was far from lost yet and he had no doubt that his men – his people – would fight on until the invaders were ejected from the city. There had seemed little he could do at present so he had waited for word to come from General Dion; word he was sure would come as soon as the big soldier was able to send it. Then he would be able to convene a meeting of the War Council to discuss the current position – although the burden of any decision would naturally fall on him as King.

"Your Majesty," the young soldier began again. "The Amphigeneians are inside the lower town. They have managed to open the Telapius Gate and are engaging our forces."

"Yes," Minos answered calmly. "The horn calls told me that the enemy was within our walls. How have they managed to breach our defences?"

It would do no good whatsoever, he felt, to begin to panic now. Far better to remain calm, find out what had happened and try to combat it.

"I do not know My Lord," the soldier responded anxiously. "General Dion sent me back to the Palace before we had reached the battle front. At the time I left him he had not yet engaged the enemy himself and had not been told how the Amphigeneians had got through the gates."

"He _did_ send you back for a reason though," Minos prompted.

"Yes My Lord," the soldier admitted. "General Dion sent me back to ensure that you and your family were escorted to the Temple where you might be defended better… he felt that it would be sensible under the circumstances."

"I hardly think the danger is that imminent," Minos declared, "and I have no intention of cowering behind my guards. If the city falls I will fall with it."

"General Dion asked me to remind you that you have tasked him with ensuring the safety of the Queen and Princess. He felt that they might refuse to go to a place of safety if you were not with them. The General agreed that the danger was not immediate but felt that it would be better to arrange for the safety of the Queen and Princess now as a precaution… and that their comfort could be assured if they were moved to the Temple now rather than at a time when the situation became more dangerous."

Minos gave the young man a hard look. Yet he could not deny the wisdom of Dion's suggestion – relayed as it had been through this young man. He would rest easier knowing that both Ariadne and Pasiphae were safe and he was fairly sure that there was no way either of them would leave without him – Pasiphae would see it as an affront to her undoubted courage and Ariadne would not be able to bring herself to leave without her family.

"Very well," the King murmured. "It shall be as the General suggests. I will require that all reports are directed to me at the Temple."

"It will be done My Lord," the young soldier answered.

Minos looked at him again. He was clearly young and of low rank yet the fact that Dion had trusted him with such an important task spoke volumes for the man's potential. He would be one to watch for the future perhaps.

"My wife and daughter must be informed and fetched as quickly as possible," the King went on. "The servants can arrange for suitable clothing and provisions to be delivered to the Temple shortly."

"I believe that the Queen is already waiting for us at the Temple," the soldier said.

Minos frowned.

"You are sure of this?" he asked.

"Yes My Lord," the young man answered. "I have been told that despite how late it is the Queen felt the need to consult the Oracle."

Minos nodded.

"Of course," he said. "And my daughter?"

"I will send men to fetch her My Lord," the solider said firmly.

"Good man," Minos murmured. "What is your name?"

"Nisos My Lord."

"We will go to the Temple now then Nisos," the King stated, heading for the door.

"Your Majesty, General Dion also asked me to tell you that he has managed to track down the item you had lost and has it with him," Nisos said hesitantly, his voice a little confused.

"Good," Minos answered curtly.

So Dion had managed to find Jason. This would please Pasiphae, although Minos couldn't help but think that she might be less pleased with the fact that for whatever reason Dion had not sent him straight back to the Palace with Nisos. As it was the boy was still out on the streets of the city with the Amphigeneian army having broken through the gates. Minos was grimly certain that the boy's stubborn nature was what had prevented Dion from getting him to safety and it was no doubt something that his mother would address the instant she saw him again – along with the issue of him leaving in the first place of course. The King frowned as he moved rapidly through the corridors to the passageway that linked Palace and Temple. The sooner that Anaxandros' army was pushed out of the city the better. Then perhaps Dion would be able to drag the Queen's errant son home – and when he did the King would be waiting to speak to Jason. It was high time that the lad learned that endangering his life unnecessarily was unacceptable.

* * *

As the Amphigeneians had poured into the lower town the defenders on the walls had tried to rain arrows down onto them. They had met with some success and had at least managed to slow the pace of the attack for long enough to allow some sort of ground defence to be mounted with around half of the men from the walls pouring down the steps into the streets and regrouping to face the onslaught of the Amphigeneian army. A couple of streets back from the Telapius gate the combined efforts of the citizens and the soldiers had slung hastily constructed barricades across the streets – barricades which were quickly manned by reinforcements coming both from the soldiers barracks and from the general populous themselves; men who had been resting following their stint on the walls or who were waiting for their turn to start. For now every able bodied man (and some who were not so able bodied) joined the defences in some capacity.

Behind the barricades men (and several women) selected weapons from hastily gathered piles; some hefting them as though they knew what they were doing with them while others handed out swords to their more nervous or less able companions. Here Rhea the wife of Enops the tailor picked up a spear and prepared to defend her home and children; there Herakleitos the potter hefted a sword and tried to look experienced rather than terrified. Crouched behind one of the central barricades Jason looked intently down the street in the direction of the Telapius Gate, knowing that the enemy army would be coming at any moment now. He let a wave of peaceful detachment wash over him in these last few minutes before the battle; let the confused babble of conversation from all around him drop away into silence as he centred himself and prepared to fight. To his right Pythagoras appeared carrying a bow and quiver that he had selected from the jumbled pile of weapons. Jason considered the choice of weapon dispassionately – his mind still somehow disconnected from his emotions. It was a good fit for Pythagoras, he decided; one that would allow the gentle mathematician to take on attackers without engaging in a great deal of hand-to-hand combat – something that was not necessarily his strong point – although inevitably some sword fighting might be necessary. Hercules wandered over to them with a war hammer he had picked up from somewhere, his sword bouncing lightly in its scabbard on his hip. The hammer would suit the burly wrestler's enormous strength. In his other hand he was holding a chicken leg, tearing at it with his teeth.

"Where did you get that from?" Pythagoras asked incredulously.

Hercules shrugged.

"Found it," he rumbled. "Seemed a shame to let it go to waste."

"You stole someone's supper?" Pythagoras was aghast but somehow unsurprised.

"It had been abandoned," Hercules protested. "It was about to be thrown out because the cooking pot was in the way. I couldn't let it go to waste."

Pythagoras shook his head in affectionate exasperation. It really shouldn't surprise him after all these years; when all else failed Hercules could always be counted upon to think with his stomach.

They hunkered down next to Jason, peering down the street.

"Why don't they just attack and have done with it?" Hercules grumbled. "It's the waiting I hate."

"You'll get your wish soon enough," Dion rumbled, crossing behind them to the centre of the barricade, as his sharp ears picked up the big wrestler's moan.

Hercules waited until the general had gone on past and then turned back to his companions.

"I can't see them being very happy up at the Palace that you're down here in the front of the battle," he remarked to Jason.

His young brunette companion turned towards him with a frown.

"Hercules," Jason said flatly. "Shut up."

He turned back to his contemplation of the street before him. Somehow he felt he should be more nervous. This was after all the first proper pitched battle he would have been in and yet it was as though all uncertainty disappeared in the face of the enemy, leaving him calm and at peace. Jason supposed that it was because his attention was so focussed upon what was about to happen that he had no concentration left to spare to worry or feel anxious about what was to come. It was a strange feeling – almost like he couldn't access his own emotions. Given his history he wondered whether that should worry him. He had the suspicion that it would worry his friends if they knew – even now Pythagoras was casting concerned glances in his direction.

"Are you alright?" the young mathematician asked.

"Yeah," Jason answered absently. "Just waiting."

Somewhere ahead of him a flicker of movement caught his eye. Shapes began to appear in the darkness; shapes that very quickly took on the form of men. The Amphigeneians began their march towards the barricade. There were dozens of them.

Dion stood firmly in the centre of his ragtag bunch of defenders. He knew he could rely on his trained soldiers to stand firm and obey orders but what of the ordinary citizens who stood at his side? Would they hold or would they panic and run at the first charge? It was too late for doubts now though; too late to do anything but his duty. He took up a spear and held it poised over his shoulder.

"Archers," he commanded, expecting every man or woman with a bow to get themself into a firing position.

The Amphigeneians moved inexorably closer with every second that passed.

"Hold," Dion instructed, knowing that to fire too early would waste the precious arrows that they had. "Hold."

The enemy came closer still. Dion watched them come with the practised eye of a career soldier, battle hardened and unflappable. Finally he judged them to be close enough for a barrage of projectile weapons to cause the maximum damage.

"Fire!" he roared, launching his spear straight at the invaders.

All around him arrows flew and spears were hurled. Even as he gave the command to fire the Amphigeneian soldiers broke into a run, their own commanders knowing through years of experience that the command to fire was about to be given and hoping to evade some of the projectiles. The first ranks of men charging towards the barricades were cut down like newly mown wheat but those following simply leapt over their bodies to hurl themselves at the barricade, roaring their battle cry. They crashed against the barrier in a great tidal wave, leaping over the lower points and forcing it aside in others with the sheer ferocity of the attack. The noise of weapons clashing and men screaming and roaring was stupendous. The battle for Atlantis had begun.

* * *

Deep in the underbelly of the city, Anaxandros skulked through the grime ridden tunnels as he led his men towards the heart of Atlantis; towards the great citadel and their ultimate goal. He was ankle deep in muddy water, filth lapping at his legs and seeping in through his boots, and he grimaced at the horrendous smell. When he had been told of the tunnels beneath Atlantis he had hardly thought he would be leading his men through sewers. Someone would pay for this insult, he decided.

From far above the roar of battle seeped down through the streets of the city to reach the ears of the invading force splashing through the tunnels below. For the most part the men continued in silence. Each one had been hand-picked for this mission; each one was a superb warrior, ruthless and without mercy, who could be trusted to obey every order implicitly and do whatever it took to complete their task. Even so every so often one of them cast a glance at the roof of the tunnel, plainly wishing that they were up on the streets with their fellow warriors, engaged in the great battle that was going on over their heads.

Anaxandros had not seen fit to explain his strategy to the men; had expected them to follow orders without question or thought. Now though he halted. Ceyx was at his shoulder in an instant, peering into the darkness on either side at the side passages illuminated by the flickering torch he carried. How did his King know which tunnel to take? Perhaps they were lost; perhaps they would be wandering around down here in the darkness until they stumbled upon an exit; perhaps they were all going to die down here in the dark. He swallowed. Such a thought was unbecoming of an Amphigeneian captain; an Amphigeneian _soldier_. He would trust his King and pray for deliverance.

Anaxandros turned around to face his men.

"I am aware," he growled, "that many of you would prefer to be with your comrades in the streets above. That you perhaps feel that they are engaged in a great battle for the glory of Amphigeneia and that you have been selected for a lesser task. Nothing could be further from the truth. You have been selected – hand chosen by your commanders – because you are the cream of my army; the best that Amphigeneia has produced. Ruthless… dedicated… true soldiers and true sons of our great nation. Tonight you are part of the greatest mission of all. Tonight we will take Atlantis and _your_ actions will bring this to pass. You will be hailed as heroes of Amphigeneia and men will sing your praises and recount your names for generations to come."

Anaxandros paused and looked around him.

"Your brothers in arms… your fellow soldiers… are fighting for their lives in the streets above our heads to give us a distraction; to draw the eyes of the pathetic Atlantian defenders onto themselves and away from our true goal. Tonight we will outflank them. These tunnels will lead us deep into the heart of Atlantis; will lead us to the doors of the Palace itself. We will fall upon the King of Atlantis with wrath and show him that the servants of Hermes will not be denied. Tonight we will take the throne of Atlantis and show the world the greatness of Amphigeneia."

He turned back to face the tunnel ahead of him.

"You will be silent," he ordered. "Stealth is of the highest importance. We cannot afford to give the Atlantian scum even the slightest hint of what we have planned. We will take them completely by surprise and overrun their citadel before their army knows what has happened. Follow me now."

He strode off down the tunnel without the hint of any hesitation. After a few seconds pause his men followed him in silence – the only noise coming from the faint rattle of weapons or the splashing of feet through the filth. Finally, after what seemed an eternity to the men in the tunnels, he came to an overhead opening – a ladder leading upwards through a shaft cut into the bedrock that the city sat upon, ending in grate at street level.

"Go," he commanded Ceyx. "Open the grate carefully – we must not alert anyone to our presence yet."

Ceyx swallowed and nodded silently. At the top of the ladder was a small ledge, just large enough for a man to crouch on. He stopped there for a moment, grasped the grating firmly in both hands and gently pushed. The grate was stiff with rust and did not give way. Ceyx pushed a little more firmly, knowing that his King was waiting at the bottom of the shaft and would brook no failure. The grate still would not move. Ceyx licked his lips, a bead of sweat running down his forehead into his eyes, making them sting slightly, and pushed again, putting his shoulder into the effort and using his whole weight. Finally the grate gave way with a screech of metal. It sounded hideously loud to Ceyx's ears and he could just imagine Anaxandros' displeasure – displeasure which he knew would fall on him once his King had climbed the ladder.

Ceyx paused, waiting to see if someone would come to investigate the noise that opening the grill had made. All was quiet and still. He peered cautiously into the street. The sewer opening appeared to come out at the back of several large houses – near storage areas that would not necessarily be used at night. On any other night it would be likely that there would be regular patrols this close to the Palace but the battle currently being waged down near the Telapius Gate between the Amphigeneian and Atlantian forces had drawn most of the city and Palace guards away from their posts in a desperate attempt to defend their city from the invaders.

Ceyx cautiously moved to the end of the street and peered around the corner. There was still no-one in sight. He smiled faintly. Clearly their presence was undetected. He moved back to the sewer opening and stuck his head back inside.

"All clear," he called urgently but quietly.

The exit from the sewers was achieved as quickly and quietly as was humanly possible for a contingent of heavily armed men but Anaxandros still chafed at both the delay and the noise they inevitably made. It simply wasn't possible to be completely silent no matter how much he demanded it and the sound of jingling armour and tramping feet split the still night air disturbingly loudly. Still no-one came to investigate, however, and Anaxandros was forced to admit to himself that his informant's plan had been an excellent one. The man might be a traitor but at least he was intelligent. Still Anaxandros would be a fool to completely trust him (after all if he could betray the Atlantian royal household then he could also betray his current Amphigeneian master) and if there was one thing that the Amphigeneian King was not it was a fool.

Of course there were still many things that could go wrong tonight. They were still not inside the Palace for a start and there was still the distinct chance that the traitor's information might be inaccurate – the entrance that they were to use might not be wholly unguarded. It would be no real hardship or difficulty to dispatch any potential guards but it would mean that they would risk losing the element of surprise – something that might prove vital to the ultimate success of their mission.

Marching purposefully the soldiers made their way down the street led by their King. As Anaxandros had been instructed they took the second alleyway on the right. Halfway down on the left hand side there was a door – an unguarded door. Anaxandros smiled cruelly. It appeared the traitor had not let him down. He motioned for one of his men to open the door. The time had come. Atlantis would be his.

* * *

Pasiphae stalked back through the Temple with barely concealed rage. Her late night visit to the Oracle had been prompted by her fears for her son. Jason should not be out on the streets in the middle of a siege. What good was her position as Queen with all the power that it brought her if she could not keep the thing that was most precious to her safe? He was so much more than she had ever dreamed he would be; such a special boy. Every mother thought her child was special, she supposed, but hers truly was.

The truth of the matter was that deep down she understood why Jason had run off. He had such fire – such passion – and she knew that the death of a child he had promised to protect would affect him deeply. There had even been a time – many years ago now – when she might even have done the same thing, although she had a suspicion that Jason was probably more desperately keen to protect others and to form attachments than she had ever been. There was a _need_ – a yearning – in him that was almost palpable (caused by long years of loneliness and neglect she suspected) and the mother in Pasiphae longed to take that sorrow away from him; to prove to her pig-headed, insecure son that _she_ , at least, would not abandon him.

From what little she had managed to glean from her conversations with his friends, they believed that Jason's apparently constant burning urge to defend and help those less fortunate than himself sprang from the simple basic fact that growing up nobody had ever defended or helped _him_. Under the circumstances it was only natural that he would be hurt by the death of the child.

The misplaced guilt, however, was something that she felt would have to be tackled head on. Pythagoras had made it sound as though this was a characteristic of her son that they had seen many times before. She frowned. Jason needed to learn that there were some things that _were_ his fault and some things that _weren't_ – and he needed to be taught to differentiate between the two. He also needed to learn that his actions would have consequences and she was not about to accept disobedience – especially when it came at the risk of his own health and wellbeing or, the Gods forbid, his own life! Her son had clearly been allowed to run wild for far too long and had never learned the basic skills of self-preservation. That ended now! If he could not see the impact his actions were having on those around him then she would make him see, and if he was going to insist upon being hard on himself – if he was unable to see what his responsibilities were and what they weren't – she would make sure there was someone he trusted around to make those difficult decisions for him. She did not think she was ever going to be a _soft_ mother, would not coddle or cosset her son, but by the Gods she would fight to protect him – even if the person he needed protecting from the most was himself.

The fact that she _understood_ Jason's need to _do something_ in the face of the little girl's death did not mean that she was in any way happy about it, however. There were after all many things he could have done from within the safety of the Palace without needing to be so utterly thoughtless to everyone else's feelings and without running off into the night. If he had only approached either the King or herself with his feelings he could have been reassured and together they might have guided him into an appropriate course of action. After all neither of them were monsters were they? Hadn't they attempted to show the boy every kindness that they could over the last days?

Pythagoras had intimated that it was one of Jason's distinct character traits to seek solitude when he was upset (to try to shut himself off from the world the mathematician had said) and Pasiphae had seen for herself that her son was private to the point of taciturnity when he did not wish to speak of something. Yet she could not help feeling that his tendency to isolate himself was unhealthy and yet another habit that he would need to be broken of. Becoming frustratingly uncommunicative and withdrawn would not help Jason in any way.

And now, thanks to his need for _something_ (and Pasiphae fully believed that not even _Jason_ knew what that something was – his hasty departure had been a pure gut instinct she was sure) he was out in the streets of a city under siege, suffering from repeated attacks from the invading enemy and at risk. The boy was not fully well yet either – no matter how much he might try to pretend otherwise. She knew full well that he was still having periods of breathlessness on exertion, his chest tightening in the cold winter air, and she could not believe that he was in any real fit state to fight in any sort of battle or skirmish. The chances of him being swept up in the chaos of an attack and forced to fight on the city walls seemed frighteningly high to her worried mind.

It was that fear – the fear that he could be injured or worse as a direct result of his departure from the Palace – that had caused her to visit the Temple this late at night. Pasiphae had found herself unable to sleep, tossing and turning as increasingly dark and troubling scenarios had crossed her mind. The feeling of helplessness was one she was unused to and did not like. Even the threat of harm should not touch her beautiful boy (so full of life and vitality). Eventually the Queen's anxiety had driven her from her bed to seek out the counsel of the Oracle.

Pasiphae growled in frustration. It had been a mistake to visit the seer; had only exposed her to more of the Oracle's jibes and hints about her relationship with Jason. The Oracle had been more obtuse than ever and had been unable (or perhaps unwilling) to reveal anything about Jason's current whereabouts. Pasiphae had tried to demand that the Oracle tell her whether Jason would return to her unharmed but had been told (in that infuriatingly smug tone the Oracle often used when speaking with the Queen) that she could not give her the information she desired. What did that mean? Had the Gods failed to reveal this aspect of the future? Or perhaps they had and the knowledge they had revealed was bad. Perhaps she was to lose him all over again. Pasiphae's breath quickened and her heart began to speed up at the thought. Surely the Gods could not be that cruel? Yet she knew as well as anyone that they needed no reason for cruelty; that men were mere playthings to them.

"Pasiphae." Minos' voice rang out across the Temple floor.

The Queen stopped and looked up, her frown deepening. What was the King doing here at this time of night?

"My Lord?" she asked in well-modulated tones.

Minos waited until he was alongside his wife to speak, keeping his voice low to avoid being overheard and causing panic.

"The Amphigeneians have broken into the lower town," he murmured seriously. "I have no doubt that they will be ejected as quickly as they broke through but General Dion felt it prudent that we take refuge in the Temple for the next few hours until that happens. He felt that we could be better defended here. I have dispatched soldiers to fetch Ariadne. Once we are all here servants will see to our comfort for the night."

"And Jason?" Pasiphae asked urgently.

"He has been found my love," Minos answered. "Dion has found him."

"Thank the Gods," Pasiphae breathed. "He will join us here then? I intend to… discuss his recent behaviour. Jason must be made aware that his actions have been unacceptable"

Minos hesitated.

"No," he responded slowly, not entirely sure how to explain something that he did not yet understand himself. "It appears that he has remained in the city with Dion."

He winced as he watched Pasiphae's expression change from determination to horrified worry to seething. Then the mask of the Queen – the mask which had served her so well over the years – slid back into place.

"And did Dion send word to explain this foolishness?" she snapped. "Am I to understand that my son's life is so unimportant that your General has decided to allow him to remain in harm's way?"

"Dion did not send an explanation," Minos answered. "Although I think we must take into account Jason's nature before we condemn Dion."

"He is Atlantis' General," Pasiphae pointed out, "with the entire army at his disposal. It hardly bodes well for the city if he cannot command obedience from one stubborn and wilful boy."

"Dion has responsibility for the defence of the city," Minos said firmly. "He hardly has time to spare at this present moment to argue with your son. We must trust that he will keep Jason safe. I do not believe that he will allow any undue harm to come to the boy."

"We cannot know that," Pasiphae hissed.

Minos regarded her sympathetically.

"I know you are worried Pasiphae," he responded softly, "and I too would prefer it if the boy were here safely with us but we must not allow our fears to rule us. Now more than ever we must remain strong and must not be ruled by morbid uncertainties."

He placed a comforting hand cautiously on Pasiphae's arm knowing full well that it might be rebuffed by his strong willed wife. There was no doubt where _that_ aspect of Jason's personality had been inherited from, he thought ironically.

The King was somewhat surprised when Pasiphae did not immediately shake off his hand. Instead she covered it with her own and paused for a moment with her eyes closed. When she looked up there was a vulnerability in her eyes that her husband was unused to seeing. It was a shock to see just how much of Pasiphae's heart her son had come to hold in his grasp and in what was really such a short space of time.

"I lost him for so many years," she admitted softly. "Years that I can never regain… I do not wish to lose him again."

"Jason is stronger than you believe." The Oracle's voice was soft enough not to carry beyond the ears of the King and Queen.

Pasiphae looked up with a frown. She had not heard the seer approach, padding up to them with her sandals making virtually no noise on the stone floor. She straightened noticeably, unwilling to show any weakness to a woman with whom her relationship might at best be described as complicated. The Oracle smiled knowingly at her efforts to regain her usual poise and appearance of unconcern.

"You told me that the Gods had not permitted you to see whether my son would return to me unharmed," Pasiphae sneered. "Are you telling me now that you lied? What else have you told me that I can no longer trust?"

"I did not lie," the Oracle protested mildly. "I have told you all I knew. The Gods have not permitted me to see the outcome of this day's events. I cannot tell you what I have not seen… but Jason _is_ our hope for the future. He has a great destiny. Atlantis is facing many perils and many challenges. Only Jason will bring an end to our suffering. The Gods have chosen him."

"The Gods are capricious," Pasiphae answered bitterly. "They are just as likely to change their minds."

"It is true that the Gods can be unclear in their intentions," the Oracle agreed. "It is also true that the hand of man can alter the course of events. Yet I believe that Jason _will_ fulfil his destiny." Her face grew more serious. "Do not think that you are the only person who cares for Jason," she said sharply. "I have tried my hardest to guide him from the moment he arrived in Atlantis… and I _have_ come to care for him. I would no more see him harmed than you would."

Minos pointedly cleared his throat, almost smiling at the way both women jumped, plainly having forgotten his presence.

"The presence of the Amphigeneians in our streets is indeed alarming," he said, "and the fact that Jason has chosen this precise moment to go out into the city is troubling. It is not for us to question the ways of the Gods however, nor does it do us any credit to allow morbid, septic thoughts to rule our hearts and our reason." He turned to Pasiphae. "Your worries are understandable my love but we must think that Jason is well and unharmed until we have reason believe otherwise. Dion will keep him safe… I am sure of it."

"And what would you have me do until we know the truth _My Lord_?" Pasiphae bit back, her anger growing once again.

Minos shot her another sympathetic look.

"What you have always done so well Pasiphae… your duty. It is late my love. It would do you good to get some rest. I will arrange for the servants to create a private place for both yours and Ariadne's comfort just as soon as Ariadne has joined us. You will find that things do not look nearly so grim once you have slept." He leant towards his wife. "Once… when Ariadne seemed to be missing… you counselled me against allowing dark thoughts to overwhelm me. You made me see that our enemies would be circling, waiting for us to show any weakness, but that if I just had faith my daughter would be returned to me unharmed. Permit me to do the same for you now."

Pasiphae glared for a moment. Then she deflated.

"I am unused to feeling like this," she murmured.

"It is understandable," Minos soothed. "He is your son." He turned to the Oracle. "Will you pray for him?" He instructed.

The Oracle returned his look coolly.

"I will pray for us all and for the city," she answered. "We must all pray for Atlantis… but yes I will also pray for Jason." She looked at Pasiphae again. "If you wish it I will try once more to see what his future might bring. I will seek the guidance of the Gods."

"Very well," Pasiphae responded hoarsely.

"Come," the Oracle said softly, holding her hand out to the Queen. "We will return to the inner sanctum and I will consult Lord Poseidon."

For a moment Pasiphae regarded the Oracle's outstretched hand as though it were a live snake. Then she drew herself up regally and pushed past the seer, stalking towards the steps that would lead them to the chamber below. The Oracle watched her for a moment, her lips touched by a smile that was both knowing and sad. Then she turned to follow the Queen, leaving Minos alone.

* * *

Hercules roared as his hammer dispatched another enemy soldier. Despite the Atlantian defenders best efforts they were being pushed back and no matter how many they seemed to kill the Amphigeneians were still coming in droves.

"They seem to be never ending," he growled.

Pythagoras paused briefly, tucked out of sight of the enemy around the corner of an alleyway, bandaging a shallow cut on Jason's upper arm.

"There are a lot of them Hercules," he pointed out reasonably. "Although we have managed to get rid of a fair few." He turned back to Jason and finished tying off the bandage. "There. All done," he said.

"Thanks," Jason muttered, beginning to push past his blonde friend, his sword in one hand and a shield grabbed from the body of a dead Amphigeneian soldier in the other.

A meaty hand impeded his progress and he sighed inaudibly. Now was certainly not the time for Hercules to be lecturing. The burly wrestler didn't say a word, however. He simply swept his eyes over Jason, mentally cataloguing every cut or scrape, taking in the faintly rasping breath as the smoke from a dozen fires caught in the back of his friend's throat and made his chest tighten uncomfortably once more, and spotting the way Jason attempted to swallow back the odd sharp cough, his shoulders tense with the effort. Then he glanced at Pythagoras' too thin face, still skinnier than he should be following his recent illness (and Hercules couldn't help but shudder once more at the thought of just how close he had come to losing the young genius forever), a worried frown gracing his features. The older man resisted the urge to swear. Neither one of his boys should really be here but trying to persuade Jason of that fact might just be like trying to catch a moonbeam.

"I don't suppose you could be persuaded to head back to the Palace?" Hercules asked without much hope.

"You can go back if you want to but I'm staying," Jason answered firmly.

"I thought you might say that," the burly wrestler grumbled.

Jason flashed a sudden and unexpected grin. He'd been so distant for the last couple of hours and so upset before that following Amathea's death that the sudden change in mood was both jarring and worrying as far as his friends were concerned – knowing as they did that Jason was all too good at hiding his problems behind an easy-going smile.

"If you already knew the answer why did you ask the question?" the brunette lad queried teasingly.

"Because I live in hope that one day you won't be so damned pig-headed," Hercules answered.

Jason's grin widened.

"Never going to happen," he said brightly.

"I'd worked that one out," Hercules growled. He had to admit though that as a general rule he far preferred Jason's banter to his taciturnity; silence and isolation had proved in the past to be destructive to his young friend. Even if the circumstances tonight were less than ideal he would still rather be teased than see his friend withdraw inside himself once more.

Jason slipped around Hercules, his face growing serious again as he pulled his focus back to the invading enemy.

"Come on," he said darting back towards the heart of the battle.

Hercules cursed briefly and followed him.

The tide of the Amphigeneian army separated the three men for a time. Pythagoras, alone in a side street and spotting an enemy soldier ahead of him, pulled an arrow from the quiver resting on his back, knocked it, drew and released in one smooth movement. If someone had told him two years ago that he would be here, today, doing this he would have laughed. Yet now it felt natural if not right. The bow was a good fit for him as a weapon too. He was not as good at hunting with it as Jason (although perhaps that had more to do with his attention slipping as ideas occurred to him) yet he found that he could calculate trajectories for the arrows in his head without any real effort and could pick a suitable angle for firing almost automatically.

Now though there was a second Amphigeneian coming ever closer, breaking into a run as he spotted Pythagoras. The genius scrabbled around behind his back helplessly for a few precious moments, unable to find an arrow in his haste. Finally, as his panic grew, his fingers closed on the shaft of one and he dragged it out to fire into the soldier at horrifically close range – too close for comfort – almost too close to fire. Pythagoras gasped out a shuddering breath, trying to regain control of himself. He was nearly out of arrows. Soon he would either have to start pulling used ones from the bodies of the fallen (a horrible but possibly necessary thought) or discard the bow altogether and fall back on using his sword.

Alongside him a figure suddenly jumped up onto a haphazardly stacked pile of sacks, slashing and hacking about himself with a sword. Although this particular street was unlit Pythagoras knew exactly who it was from the way he moved – a speed and fluidity that was purely Jason. Somewhere his friend had lost the shield he had acquired earlier but had picked up a second sword in its place, the blade curved in what Pythagoras could only assume was an Amphigeneian style.

Between the two of them they dispatched enemy after enemy but still the invaders kept on coming, Jason's swords singing a deadly tune while Pythagoras picked off those that entered their section of the street with more precision than he himself would have believed possible. He was not after all a natural warrior and knew that if he dared to slow down enough to think he would be horrified by his own savagery this night – yet there really was no other choice unless he wished to see his home overrun by a savage and cruel enemy.

"Fall back." Dion's voice sounded sharply over the roar of battle. "Fall back."

It was about time as far as Pythagoras could see. He may not have been a natural military tactician but it was plain that so far the Amphigeneians had the upper hand. Slowly but surely the line of Atlantis' defenders was being fractured into little groups of one, two or three and being herded back until they were trapped and could be slaughtered. Far better to give ground now and fall back to a rallying point where they could regroup into a coordinated defence once more and drive forwards from there. Of course the Amphigeneians would try to stop that happening but at the moment they were still pausing to kill every injured Atlantian they came across, giving those defending the city precious breathing space.

Jason jumped down from the pile of sacks and ducked under the sword of another enemy, swinging his own sword up with deadly efficiency as he straightened.

"Go," he said to Pythagoras as he disposed of another soldier.

Pythagoras stared at him dumbfounded for a moment. He had never seen Jason fight with such ferocity or precision. Shouldn't he be helping though? He slung the bow across his back and fumbled for his sword, knowing that the enemy was too close to allow for efficient shooting.

Jason half turned as he took out another Amphigeneian and saw his friend still standing there.

"Pythagoras! Go!" he snarled, spinning back to kick the body of a soldier off his one blade even as he arced the other down into the neck of the next attacker.

Pythagoras went. He hared off down the street towards the rallying point some four streets distant. At the end of the first street he found Hercules still swinging his enormous war hammer, smashing a path through any enemy soldiers who had managed to outflank them.

"Where is he?" Hercules growled bringing the hammer down onto the head of a soldier.

"Who?" Pythagoras asked. With hindsight he knew it was a ridiculous question (who else would Hercules mean but Jason?) but at the moment he was somewhat distracted with parrying the sword blow of an Amphigeneian who seemed intent on disembowelling him.

"Jason," Hercules ground out, swinging the hammer once more.

"He's right here," Jason answered fending off another attacker with brutal efficiency as he backed down the street towards them.

"I said we should have gone back to the Palace," Hercules grumbled.

"And I told you that you could go back if you wanted to," Jason answered sharply, still stabbing and hacking at the Amphigeneians who dared to approach him. "I'm staying."

"Well at least we'll all die together," Pythagoras interjected brightly. "There is some comfort in that."

He was rewarded by incredulous looks from both his companions.

"No there isn't," Hercules protested loudly.

Five or six Amphigeneian soldiers had managed to get behind the trio, effectively cutting off their retreat to Dion's second line of defence. Hercules roared in anger, lowered his head and ran straight at them, swinging his hammer from side to side almost like a scythe and sending enemy soldiers flying with his great strength. Pythagoras followed close behind him with Jason keeping up a rear-guard action fending off any attacks by the chasing soldiers. Racing through the streets they headed for Dion's rendezvous point, the battle raging all around them.

* * *

Ariadne wasn't entirely sure what had roused her at first. Cassie, the little girl who Jason had introduced her to, had been absolutely delightful although her fascination (which almost bordered on worship) of the Princess was a little unnerving at times. Still Ariadne had had few opportunities to converse with anyone outside the court and had found herself enjoying herself far more than she would have imagined playing with the child. It had been an unpleasant surprise to return to the Palace and discover that Jason had gone missing but Ariadne was certain that he must have had good cause to leave. It didn't stop her worrying about him though and the thought that he might be in danger had her pacing the Palace corridors restlessly for hours until her father had come across her as he left the family rooms to go to his study and had rather firmly instructed her to go to bed.

Would Pasiphae be worrying this much? Ariadne uncomfortably thought that she might. It had been strange over the past few months to increasingly see Pasiphae's maternal side coming out – a process that had sped up following Jason's arrival at the Palace. Much as the Princess hated to admit it there were times when she felt almost jealous of the bond the Queen seemed to be developing with her son. Pasiphae had been openly worried when Jason had been poisoned and made affectionate little gestures towards him that her stepdaughter would never even have imagined seeing her doing; a hand gently smoothing back his wild curls or cupping the side of his face; a soft smile reserved solely for her son; a hand plumping a pillow or smoothing a blanket. This was most definitely not the Pasiphae that Ariadne knew.

She had done as she was told and retreated to her chambers, although she had not really had any intention of sleeping yet. Instead she had allowed a servant to help her to prepare for bed and had then lain there in the dark, staring at the ceiling with her mind alternating between pleasant daydreams of a future with Jason and worries for his safety in the present. At some point the sound of the horns had changed, although she did not know quite what that meant and suspected that she would not be told even if she asked. In many ways her father still thought of her as a child; weak and helpless and in need of protection from the big bad world. Ariadne was neither as innocent nor as helpless as the King would have believed and one day soon she knew she would have to make him see that. After all at the present moment she was sole heir to the throne and really ought to be more involved in court life than she currently was if only to prepare her for the role she must one day take as Queen.

Gradually though sounds from the corridor outside began to intrude themselves on her awareness; the sound of pounding feet, and somewhere in the distance the metallic clash of weapons. Ariadne lay still, listening. What was going on? The sounds of running feet retreated quickly but the noise of a skirmish somewhere within the Palace walls continued. Ariadne's breath quickened. Silently she slipped out of bed and slid on a pair of sandals and tiptoed to her door, pulling it open and peering into the passageway outside.

The corridor was deserted. Ariadne slipped out into it, determined to find out what was going on in her own home. She padded on silent feet through the family wing, heading towards her father's study. Suddenly ahead of her she saw a figure illuminated in the light of a torch. A figure that was wearing armour and the green cloak of an Amphigeneian soldier. Ariadne ducked quickly into an alcove, praying that she hadn't been spotted yet. If there were Amphigeneians inside the Palace then where was her father? Had Atlantis fallen? And where was Jason? What had happened to him? Ariadne decided somewhat grimly that she was not about to allow herself to be taken easily and if she was to defend herself she would need a weapon. She looked down at her flimsy nightdress. That would have to go too.

Her best option was to get away from the royal chambers, she decided – although she knew all too well that getting out of the Palace might prove trickier and she would want to find out what had happened to her family first. Still first things first, she needed to arm herself and find a change of clothes – something a bit more practical in case she needed to go outdoors and something that would allow her to move at speed. As to a weapon her best bet was to find a bow. Her father had taught her to use one as a child, determined that she would have the means to defend herself if she ever found herself in a situation that required it – a situation like this she supposed. There was still an old bow and a quiver full of arrows left in Therus' old chambers, left behind and forgotten when the chambers had been stripped after her brother's fall from grace she supposed. She had found them in the empty room one day, spotting the strap of the quiver poking out from the rear of a chest that it had fallen behind, and had moved them under the bed. No-one else ever went in Therus' old quarters as far as Ariadne knew – Minos had forbidden it in the first throes of his grief and rage and there were few people who would dare to defy the King.

Slipping in through the door of the room, Ariadne quickly armed herself. The bow was old but serviceable enough – even if it was more of a child's hunting bow than anything. It would not have the range of a genuine war bow she knew (would not even have the range of the exquisitely carved bow her father had given her on one of her birthdays – much to Pasiphae's disgust). That bow was currently within her own chambers but the Princess did not dare to return to fetch it, not knowing whether the soldiers in the Palace were searching for her and knowing that if they were her rooms would be the first place they would look. Still this bow was better than nothing. She could still use it to kill a man if necessary. Hopefully there would be time and opportunity enough to obtain something better later on if it proved necessary.

Now there was just her clothing to consider. The less she looked like a Princess the better. Most items worn by her family or members of the court, however, would be far too fancy and would mark her out as one of the nobility immediately. So where could she find a garment to hide who she was? Her mind flashed to the simple tunics her stepmother had provided for Jason to wear on a day to day basis. They were well made of high quality fabric and warm but plain and unadorned; not immediately recognisable as the garb of a courtier. If she were careful about what she selected she should be able to find something simple and practical enough that might allow her to escape notice. Plus Jason's room, while still being in the family wing, was far enough away from the main royal quarters that it might not be searched immediately – especially since it was not widely known that it was currently in use.

There was also Jason's cat to consider. Whilst Ariadne knew that she should perhaps be thinking of more important things than Isosceles right at this moment (how to escape the enemy soldiers in her home for example), she was also aware of how attached her beloved Jason was to the kitten. She had to believe that he was alright; that he was unharmed. She could not permit herself to think the worst right now. Both he and Pythagoras would be deeply upset if anything happened to the kitten. If it was at all possible Ariadne decided that Isosceles would have to come with her.

The sounds of battle drew ever closer. Ariadne paused for a moment, hiding behind the door in Therus' room, holding her breath and trying not to make a sound. There was someone right outside the door. Slowly the door began to open. The Princess gripped her bow tightly, wishing that she had a knife too. Then a shout sounded from the passageway outside and the door stopped moving. Ariadne heard pounding feet once more and the clash of weapons from further down the corridor. Taking her chance she darted through the doorway and plunged into the shadows at the side of the passage, hoping that she had not been spotted.

Keeping to the shadows as much as possible the girl hurried through the corridors, ducking into alcoves to avoid contact with anyone as much as possible. Finally she reached the door to Jason's chamber. She had been right in thinking that this corridor would be one of the last to be searched. For a moment Ariadne paused at the door, listening for any sounds from within. All was quiet. As certain as she could be that for now at least she was alone, the Princess turned the handle of the door and slipped inside.


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Thank you all once more for the lovely comments. We're nearly at the end of the ride now - into the last few chapters - but I hope you'll all stay with me right to the very end.
> 
> Let me know if you like the chapter. I am shameless when it comes to comments! ;-)

Jason's room was cool and dark. Ariadne could only hope that the darkness would be her ally as she stood still, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the gloom. A cold draught crept in and caught at her bare arms and shoulders, reminding her that she needed to change into more practical clothing. With that in mind she slipped over to the end of the bed and quietly inched open the trunk where she suspected Jason's clothes were kept.

Rifling through the clothes of the man she loved in the middle of the night while he was most definitely not present struck Ariadne as a decidedly perverse thing to do and for a moment she paused, trying not to laugh out loud. Absolute silence was essential, she sternly told herself; she had to avoid any Amphigeneian soldiers who might be lurking nearby and she couldn't afford to alert them to her presence by any undue sound.

With care she selected a tunic and trousers for herself. Each was as plain as possible and dark in colour to allow her to blend into the shadows. A tickling at her ankle made her jump, stifling the gasp that came unbidden to her lips. She glanced down.

"Isosceles," she whispered softly in recognition, crouching down to stroke the kitten. "We need to find Jason. I need to get us both out of here first though."

For a moment she worried about how she would manage to carry the kitten both safely and securely – particularly if there was any chance that she might have to fire the bow that she carried. First things first, she decided; change into her borrowed clothing and then search for a bag or something that she might carry the cat in – she was fairly certain that she had seen Pythagoras with a satchel in here the other day. There was a chance that he would have left it in here, or if not here then in the chamber he shared with Hercules next door. Surely he wouldn't mind if she borrowed it? It was after all in aid of a good cause.

Before she could straighten and begin to change, however, a faint noise from the door drew her attention. Someone was very quietly turning the handle. Ariadne swallowed hard and gripped her bow more firmly, silently knocking an arrow even as she tried to hide herself a little better in the deep shadows cast by the bed. She had little hope that an enemy soldier would simply glance into the room and would not make a proper search but still tried to cover all options, knowing that whilst her bow might prove useful for picking off the odd opponent it would do no good against a determined attack.

Slowly, painfully slowly, the door crept open and a figure slipped into the room, keeping to the shadows and trying to remain silent. Ariadne paused even in the act of drawing her bow. An Amphigeneian intruder would have no call to move so stealthily; would not worry about making a noise or about being spotted. The Princess frowned and peered over the top of the bed.

"Kitten?" the figure called in an urgent whisper. "Where are you kitten?"

The voice was older and most definitely female. As the figure crept forwards she stepped into a beam of moonlight coming through the un-shuttered window. Ariadne recognised her. This was the servant who had come to build up the fire at Pasiphae's request the other evening when they had all been here with Jason. As far as the Princess recalled she had served in the Palace for years – for as long as Ariadne could remember – although the girl had never come into direct personal contact with her and as such did not know her name. At least the woman was likely to be friendly and would hopefully know a back way out of the Palace through which they might escape undetected – after all she _was_ a servant of many years standing and must surely know all the secret ways that the servants employed to go about their daily duties with as little disturbance to the nobles of the court as possible.

Ariadne stood up, bow still poised in readiness; she might believe that the servant was an ally but it would not hurt to be cautious. The woman half turned in response to the movement and stifled a scream.

"My Lady," she gasped, recognising the Princess as she stepped forwards. "Thank the Gods you are safe. There are enemy soldiers everywhere… all over the Palace… I was afraid that everyone had been captured."

"What is your name?" Ariadne demanded. "And what are you doing here?"

"I am Orithyia, My Lady," the servant answered. "The Queen tasked me with looking after these chambers and with seeing to the comfort of the young man staying in them."

"I have seen you here in Jason's chambers before," Ariadne acknowledged, "but that does not explain what you are doing here now."

Orithyia hesitated.

"Your Highness," she began, trailing off into silence as she thought.

The Princess had a reputation for being kind and certainly her personal maid, Korinna, had clearly been treated more as a friend that a servant right up to the point of her untimely death – and the rumour was that Ariadne had been distraught in the aftermath. Orithyia was still very aware of who the girl's father and stepmother were though; it would not be safe to give any sort of offence to the beloved daughter of the King.

"I am waiting," Ariadne said sharply.

"Yes My Lady," Orithyia murmured. "It is going to sound ridiculous," she added.

"Try me," Ariadne answered.

Orithyia sighed.

"The young man who stays here," she began carefully. "I am aware of his identity… I also know that it is a secret that must be kept – although I do not know why."

"I do not know what you mean," Ariadne responded stiffly. It seemed impossible to her that this woman could have learned the truth so quickly.

Orithyia smiled slightly.

"Yes you do," she answered. "The boy is the son of the Queen and of the old King. I was already working here when he was born… and I remember him all too well… such a bright, happy little thing." She paused. "There I go again," she said. "Letting my mouth run away with me. You must forgive me My Lady. I'm nothing but a foolish old woman."

Ariadne raised an eyebrow.

"You have still not explained what you are doing here," she pointed out raising one eyebrow imperiously.

"Forgive me My Lady," Orithyia said again. "His Highness is such a charming boy… and I get the feeling he's probably very kind too. My late husband always said that I never knew when to shut up and I'm afraid I've let my mouth run away with me a few times in front of His Highness… he's always been good about it though. Never gets annoyed at me and hasn't so much as mentioned it to the Queen. Worried about me getting into trouble."

"That is very like Jason," Ariadne answered softly. "He thinks more of others than he does of himself. He is special and I have never met anyone like him."

"Reminds me a bit of my youngest boy," Orithyia said. "He was always getting himself into all sorts of scrapes but he was always trying to help other people… always meant well," she paused and her eyes became distant; sad. "I miss him," she admitted.

"He does not live in Atlantis?" Ariadne found herself asking. Despite the urgency of the situation and the need to move on quickly she found herself being drawn in by the servant's garrulous conversation.

"He's been gone these five years past," Orithyia answered. "He was working for a merchant in the city. Guarding a shipment of perfume to Pathmos. The ship went down and I lost my boy." She wiped at her eyes with the corner of her apron.

"I'm sorry," Ariadne said, feeling that it was somehow inadequate in the face of the woman's sorrow.

"Oh don't you worry child," Orithyia said, trying to smile weakly. "It was years ago now." A look of consternation came across her face as she realised just how she had addressed the Princess. "I'm sorry My Lady I meant no disrespect," she said.

"And I have taken no offence," Ariadne reassured her. "But our time here must be short. The Amphigeneians could search these chambers at any moment. Why are you here?"

Orithyia looked a little sheepish.

"You will think me a fool Your Highness," she said softly. "It is rare for me to be here so late but I was helping to restock the linen cupboards. I was about to go home when the enemy got into the Palace. They are everywhere – killing all the guards and rounding up everyone else… not that there's many here for them to round up… most of the nobles and servants have gone home for the night. Anyway, I was going to try to sneak out… there are passageways that only the servants know of My Lady… and then I thought of the young man here and how attached he and his friends seem to be to this little cat. I know that he's somewhere down in the city at the moment… and I suppose I thought I could repay his little kindnesses by rescuing her – I didn't like to think of him coming back here after everything's finished and these Amphigeneian animals are sent packing and finding his cat had gone missing."

Ariadne smiled and shook her head.

"If you are a fool then so am I," she responded. "I had much the same intent. Now tell me… you say that the Amphigeneians are rounding up everyone… what do you know of my father? Is the King safe?"

Orithyia shook her head helplessly.

"I do not know My Lady," she said. "I hid in the servants passages and watched them rounding up everyone they came across but I did not see the King or Queen among them."

"Very well," Ariadne retorted. "I need to know where my father is and what has happened to him but perhaps the wisest option would be to get out of the Palace for now and try to find Jason. We will not accomplish very much alone with only one child's bow for protection."

"Of course My Lady," Orithyia agreed. She placed a basket down on the floor, removed the lid and started to pick up Isosceles, who had wandered over to investigate the newcomer.

"I think that until we are clear of the Palace it would be best if you forgot the words 'my lady' and 'your highness'," Ariadne said firmly. "If we are caught I do not want to be identified."

"Then what should I call you My Lady?" Orithyia asked softly.

"You may call me Arisbe," Ariadne answered, remembering the name of little Castianiera's doll and how she had been dressed in a miniature version of her own court dress. "Or Ari for short."

The Princess quickly stripped off her nightdress and redressed herself in Jason's tunic and trousers, belting the tunic loosely to hide her natural shape, and re-braiding her hair. Looking around she grabbed a cloak from the top of a table and settled it around her own shoulders. Under the cloak sat Pythagoras' satchel. Ariadne grabbed it on a whim, discarding the scrolls it contained (with a muttered apology to the young mathematician as she did) but leaving the packages of dried herbs and pots of oil and ointments in it. Moving back to the trunk she shoved an extra couple of tunics inside and a blanket that was folded at the bottom of the bed. Then she slipped the strap of the now stuffed satchel over her head so that it ran cross-wise over her chest.

"How do I look?" she asked turning back to Orithyia, who had finally managed to persuade Isosceles into her basket and closed the lid.

"Not like a Princess My Lady," Orithyia answered. She took in Ariadne's suddenly raised eyebrow and grinned. "Ari, I mean," she added.

"Let us go then," Ariadne murmured.

The corridor outside Jason's chambers was mercifully still deserted. The two women hurried along it keeping to the shadows as much as possible. All was quiet now. The distant sounds of fighting had stopped. Ariadne resolutely avoided thinking about what that might mean. Hearing footsteps coming towards them the women exchanged an anxious glance and dived for the dark shadows behind a convenient pillar. A figure loomed out of the darkness; a young Atlantian soldier. He had lost his helmet somewhere and had blood at his temple and on his shield arm but otherwise looked to be alright. Ariadne watched him moving as furtively as he could and cast a nervous glance behind him. It appeared that he was not being followed. Taking a chance – knowing that she would need allies – she ducked out from behind the pillar.

"Psst," she said urgently. "Over here!"

The soldier looked up and his eyes widened in recognition. He trotted over to join the women as quickly as he could.

"My Lady," he gasped, unwittingly echoing Orithyia. "Thank the Gods you are safe. The King will be relieved."

"You have seen my father?" Ariadne asked. "Where is he? Is he safe?"

"For the moment My Lady," the young soldier answered. "He is at the Temple with the Queen." He hesitated briefly before plunging on. "The city walls have been breached. General Dion felt that it would be prudent for your family to take refuge in the Temple until the Amphigeneian savages are swept from the streets. He felt that you might all be better defended there. The King agreed to it and I escorted him there to join the Queen, who was at prayer. Once I had seen to their safety His Majesty ordered me to take a small contingent of men and come back to the Palace to fetch you. But when we returned we were attacked. The Amphigeneians are inside the Palace My Lady."

"Yes," Ariadne responded with heavy irony, "I had noticed that."

"I do not understand how it is that they are here though," the young man murmured. "They cannot have got through the streets from the lower town so quickly or with such ease. It is as though someone…"

"Let them in," Ariadne finished. "It seems we may have a traitor in our midst." She paused, thinking. "My father must be informed of these suspicions."

"My Lady, forgive me," the soldier responded. "I have allowed my imagination to run away with me. It may simply be that part of the enemy force has managed to outflank our defences. I have no real basis for my suspicions. For now our first concern must be to get you safely to your father and to sweep the enemy from our streets."

"Of course," Ariadne agreed. "You said that you were sent with a small contingent of men to fetch me. Where are they now?"

"Dead Your Highness," the young man answered bluntly. "We were ambushed on our return to the Palace and cut down. I was the only survivor."

"And what is your name?"

"Nisos," the young warrior answered. "I have the honour of serving under General Dion and was dispatched by him to see to the safety of the King and his family."

Orithyia, whose presence had been momentarily forgotten by her two companions, peered nervously around the pillar.

"This is all very well," she pointed out, "But shouldn't we be moving on? We're not that well hidden here and the Amphigeneian soldiers are everywhere."

"We must get to the Temple," Ariadne decided.

"Forgive me My Lady but I do not think it will be such a simple matter," Nisos said seriously. "The Amphigeneians are guarding the main doors to the Palace and must be looking for you by now."

"Are you aware of the passageway that links the Palace and Temple?" Ariadne asked.

"I am," Nisos answered, "and I agree that it is unlikely that the Amphigeneians will know of its existence… unless there really is a traitor in our midst. It would be our best chance of getting into the Temple but to get there we will have to pass through to the far side of the Palace… and that will mean evading all the enemy soldiers who are within the Palace. It will mean passing by the throne room and I cannot see that that would be unguarded. My first thought must be for your safety and to attempt to get to the passageway under such circumstances would seem to be folly. I cannot allow you to make such a risk."

"It is my risk to take," Ariadne declared. "I will understand if you do not wish to come with me," she turned to Orithyia, "and you should try to escape as quickly as you can. Use the servants' entrances that we spoke of. I would ask a favour of you though… look after Isosceles until Jason comes for her or until I send word." She blatantly ignored Nisos' confused look.

Orithyia gave her a hard look, one eyebrow raised.

"Don't be silly," she said sharply. "It'll be safer if we all stick together. Besides, my sons will be out in the streets tonight defending our homes and there's a chance that I won't see them again because of it. But what good would their sacrifice be if the heir to the throne is captured or killed? And what sort of person would I be if I let that happen? No. Like it or not you're stuck with me."

Ariadne looked down at the ground.

"I am not sure that I deserve such loyalty," she admitted softly. "You aren't even armed."

She looked down the corridor. The deep shadows were lessening as morning approached.

"If we are to attempt this at all we must do so soon. It is nearly sunrise and once the dawn breaks properly there will be few shadows for us to hide in."

Nisos produced a long knife from in his belt and handed it to Orithyia.

"If you are determined My Lady then it seems we have no choice but to follow you," he murmured. "I will go first. Stay close behind me and try to keep to the shadows."

* * *

"Fall back," Dion's voice rang out again. "Fall back."

The fight was brutal as slowly the Atlantian defenders were pushed back through the streets of their city. Hercules still barrelled on ahead of his two friends using brute force and strength to cleave a path for them through the ranks of invading soldiers who had managed to outflank them and were hurriedly forming up to thwart their retreat. At the back of the little group Jason formed a rear-guard, defending his friends' backs as they withdrew to the second barricade.

They were still two streets away from the designated position where they would regroup and for now the sole focus had to be on getting there. Jason still felt detached somehow. All around him people were fighting and dying; people who he saw in the streets every day; who were his neighbours – the man they bought pies from or the fruit seller who always tried to flirt with him when he went past. Yet somehow it didn't sink in; didn't feel real. A woman fell, screaming not far away from him but Jason didn't even flinch. It was as though his emotions had been turned off when the battle had started.

The world narrowed down into sharp focus; stabbing, hacking, slashing, kicking – using every skill and trick in his armoury to push back yet another opponent and get away. The ground underfoot was slick with blood, mixing with the thick mud to form a treacherous condition. It was his footing that betrayed him in the end; his boots sliding on the slippery ground and depositing him on his back before he could even scrabble for purchase. With the air knocked out of him he stared blankly at the soldier looming above him, curved blade raised to deliver a killing blow that he knew would come before he could manage to block it.

Then suddenly – unbelievably – Hercules was there smashing the soldier away from him with an enraged roar, the war hammer he had selected whistling through the air with incredible speed. He reached down with one meaty hand and pulled Jason up by the neck of his tunic, shoving the young man in front of him towards the rendezvous point where reinforcements awaited them.

Jason allowed himself to be shoved onwards, limping slightly as he ran. The fall had jarred him. There was no real harm done, he hoped, but he really needed a moment to get his breath back. Still he couldn't help but be a little dazed and without being really aware of what was happening he stumbled slightly. Hercules swore. Without waiting for permission he dragged his young friend's arm across his shoulders and pulled Jason on, until he felt that the boy was steady and aware enough to continue alone.

With one last supreme effort they made it to the second barricade; studier and much higher than the last. Jason clasped his hands together and used them to boost Pythagoras until he could scramble over the top, dropping down amongst the regrouping defenders and their reinforcements on the other side. Once Hercules was over as well, the young brunette grabbed a handhold and climbed up over the barricade, using his natural agility to help him. Once on the far side he bent over, hands on his knees, and tried to regain his breath.

Pythagoras watched each wheezing indrawn gasp with concern. Jason was usually the first of them to recover from any exercise (on the rare occasions when he actually got out of breath that was) but right now he was struggling. Then there was the rather worrying fact that he seemed spectacularly unconcerned by the deaths of their neighbours; had seemed detached and distant ever since the attack began. Pythagoras supposed that Jason might deliberately be refusing to think about what was going on around them – refusing to feel until it was all over – but given his friend's recent history he couldn't help but feel worried.

"Are you alright?" he asked carefully.

Jason blinked at him in surprise, drawn out of whatever path his mind was wandering down unexpectedly.

"Yeah," he answered. "Just getting my breath back."

Pythagoras couldn't help but notice the uncertain note in his tone, however, and drew close.

"Are you sure?" he pressed.

"Absolutely," Jason said trying to focus fully on his friend. "It's just…"

"Just what?" Hercules rumbled.

"I don't know," Jason murmured. "It doesn't feel real somehow." He shook himself. "I'm fine," he said with far more certainty than before. Then he frowned. "Did we ever find out how they got into the city?" he asked.

"A mistake," Dion growled.

The three friends turned in surprise, not having heard the big general come up behind them.

"One of the guards on the Telapius Gate this evening told a friend that his lover had managed to escape from the Amphigeneians and was waiting for him in the woods," Dion continued. "His friend believes that he left via the sally port near the gateway without telling anyone so that he could go to the girl, leaving it unbarred for his own return. The Amphigeneians appear to have seen him leaving and to have taken advantage. They sent a force through the sally port who opened the Telapius Gate for the rest of the army. Once we have driven them back out of the city I think I shall give the order for that sally port to be blocked up. I will not have this happening again."

"Now we just have to get rid of them," Jason said flatly.

"Yes," Dion agreed. He flicked a serious look at the dark haired young man. "I would take it as a kindness if you tried your best not to get killed," he said. "I would not wish to have to break the news to your mother that you had been lost… or even injured. I do not think she would take it well."

Jason grimaced.

"Probably not," he conceded.

"Here they come," Pythagoras announced urgently, staring back down the street in the direction of the city walls.

The Amphigeneians were on the attack once more, screaming war cries as they hurled themselves at the barricade. This time though the defenders were better prepared and gradually the enemy advance began to slow and then to halt. Sensing that they were now gaining the upper hand the Atlantians began to push forwards, bolstered by reinforcements drawn from the sections of the wall not currently under attack. Eventually, shortly before dawn broke bringing an end to that interminable night, they managed to push the Amphigeneian soldiers back out through the Telapius Gate and close the great bars that held it shut against any intruder. It had been a simple mistake that had allowed the Amphigeneians into the city streets and one which would not be quickly repeated. The weary defenders breathed a brief sigh of relief knowing that it would only be a matter of time before the enemy archers and siege engines resumed their bombardment once more.

Jason leaned against the battle scarred wall of a house and ran a weary hand over his face and through his tangled and sweat drenched hair.

"They will come again," Pythagoras murmured, looking towards the gate. He looked about as tired as Jason felt.

"And we'll push them back again when they do," he answered with certainty.

"How can you be so sure?" Pythagoras asked softly. Somehow in the pale light of the breaking dawn it felt almost sacrilegious to raise their voices.

"Because I'm an optimist," Jason responded.

"Many more nights like last night and you'll be a dead optimist," Hercules rumbled.

Jason frowned distractedly. He had the sudden feeling of deja-vu; like he'd had this conversation before. An ice cold ripple went down his back. He had seen this scene – this whole night if truth be told – replayed in his dreams. What the hell did that mean? How could he have dreamt about something that hadn't happened yet? He swallowed convulsively, eyes closing as the full impact of the fact that he had _seen_ what was going to happen in advance hit him.

"What's wrong?"

Hercules' rumbling voice snapped his eyes open again.

"You look like you've seen a ghost." The burly wrestler's concern was evident in his voice.

"It's nothing," Jason murmured, not knowing quite how to express himself without his friends thinking he was mad.

"It is time that we returned to the Citadel," Dion growled, coming up behind them once more. The general seemed to have come through the battle relatively unscathed although a trail of blood matted his greying hair at the temple and various scrapes and cuts littered the exposed skin on his arms. "I must make my report to the King and I believe that your parents are most anxious to see and speak with you." He gave Jason a hard look.

Jason tried hard not to wince. This was one conversation that he was not looking forwards to. How could he explain to the King and Queen why he had felt the need to leave as he had and what he had been trying to do? In the cold light of morning he wasn't entirely sure of the answers to either question. Both Orithyia and Hercules' words came back to him now and he worried at his lip as he mulled them over.

He had been convinced that neither his mother nor Minos would be particularly concerned by his departure – had persuaded himself that they did not really care. Yet now he found himself remembering all the little kindnesses they had offered him; all the concern they had both showed when he was ill. His mother had a temper, he knew, and was likely to see what he had done as disobedience. He could hardly expect her to understand why Amathea's death had upset him and spurred his need to avenge her in some way. More likely she would be angry; more likely she would see that he was a lost cause – not worth the effort; more likely she would decide to wash her hands of him completely. Jason found himself surprisingly upset at that thought.

There was no doubt in his mind from the looks that Dion kept sending in his direction that he was in some kind of trouble. But if he had messed up as badly as he was beginning to fear what would the consequences be? Minos might easily interpret his departure as an act of rebellion against the King and order his exile – or send him back to the bull court. After all, his own son had been accused of treason and forced to flee.

At least the King had not ordered him to be brought back in chains so that should hopefully mean he wasn't about to be carted off to the cells immediately. He had seen enough over the months to know that Atlantian justice was both brutal and swift, and depended largely upon the whims and moods of the monarch. Through their short association Jason had come to see Minos as a man who tried hard to be fair and do what was right but he had also witnessed the consequences of angering the King; knew that Minos' word was law and to go against that was regarded as treason – as a crime against the Gods. Now, by leaving when both the King and Queen had ordered him to stay put, he had defied Minos' will. There were bound to be repercussions.

Whatever happened, he decided, he would not take his friends down with him. He would not give either one of them the chance to speak up on his behalf and risk the wrath and punishment of the King _this_ _time_. There would be no facing the repercussions together; no mad last minute rescue; he would face the consequences of his actions alone; would not allow his friends to be punished for his errors.

Worrying about this, coming on top of his previous thoughts about his own apparently prophetic dreams, was all too much. Without him being aware of it, Jason's breathing began to speed up, becoming ragged and rasping, and he clenched his fists, fingernails biting into his palms as he tried to stem the rising tide of panic coursing through him. Hercules was there in an instant, positioning himself in front of his friend to block him from the prying eyes of the world, hands reaching out to grasp shoulders that were shaking slightly, faint tremors that ran under his hands.

"Relax and breathe normally," he murmured softly, bringing one hand around behind his friend's neck in a gesture that he knew from past experience Jason found comforting.

Jason looked up at him despairingly.

"Promise me that you won't interfere," he said urgently.

"What are you talking about?" Hercules asked with genuine confusion.

"Whatever happens this is my fault," Jason answered.

Hercules shook his head.

"Slow down," he rumbled. "You're not making any sense – not that you ever make much sense."

"I'm the one that defied the King not you," Jason said flatly. "I was told to stay at the Temple and I left. You and Pythagoras had nothing to do with it so you mustn't interfere. Whatever Minos decides to do to me you need to just go along with it."

"Jason I am sure that it will all be fine," Pythagoras murmured.

Dion had listened to their conversation with a growing frown.

"The King is not an unjust man," he said firmly. "When he says that he wishes to talk to someone then that is exactly what he intends to do. If he meant you harm I would have been instructed to arrest you and not to see that you were returned safe and unharmed. I do not believe that he will be unfair."

Jason turned towards him, trying desperately hard to put a lid on his own anxiety. He didn't have time to fall apart now, he told himself firmly. Whatever his mother and stepfather had in store for him he would need to meet it head on.

"You're right," he said with a sigh. "Let's go and face the music."

"What music?" Pythagoras asked with some confusion.

Jason huffed a laugh.

"It's just a saying," he said. "Don't worry about it."

"But I do worry," Pythagoras answered softly. "You have not been yourself all night. The child's death upset you more than you have admitted and it is doing no good at all to shut your feelings off."

Jason risked a fragile smile. Trust Pythagoras to see through him.

"I haven't," he said quietly. "At least not on purpose."

"And that worries me more than anything," Pythagoras said earnestly. "If you had deliberately detached yourself then I could understand it. The battle we have just been through… I would not wish to see another like it… although I fear that it is inevitable that I will. It was disturbing to see people that we know being cut down but you did not even flinch."

"Perhaps I've just got used to seeing people being killed," Jason answered. "Perhaps I've become immune to it… perhaps I just don't care enough for it to affect me anymore."

"I do not believe that," Pythagoras responded looking at him searchingly. "You are upset now but trying to hide it. There is something that you are keeping from me. Whatever caused you to begin to panic just then was more than simple anxiety over what the King will say or upset over Amathea's death."

Jason sighed.

"I'm not deliberately trying to hide anything," he said. "It was just that the closer we got to the battle the less I could feel."

"And now?" Hercules rumbled.

"Nothing feels real," Jason admitted. "It just doesn't feel like this is really happening." He spotted the anxious look that passed between his two friends and risked another attempt at a smile. "Don't worry," he added. "I'm not about to lose myself again. I know exactly where I am right now… it's not like it was before."

"It is my nature to worry," Pythagoras murmured.

"And it's mine to be headstrong and stubborn," Jason answered.

"Don't forget reckless," Hercules rumbled. "You're definitely reckless… and foolhardy. You've been nothing but trouble ever since you got here." In spite of his seemingly harsh words Hercules' tone was affectionate and light.

Jason favoured him with a lopsided grin.

"I keep you young," he said.

"You're making me lose my hair," Hercules groused.

"What little you've got left anyway," Jason retorted. "I will be alright," he added turning back to Pythagoras. "I'm not heading down the path I was before… because I know that you won't let me fall that far… neither of you… and I promise I won't bottle things up alright?"

Pythagoras looked at him through narrowed eyes, clearly assessing how honest Jason was being.

"Very well," he said. "But we will be having a nice long chat once we are back at the Palace."

"Once my mother is done wiping the floor with me," Jason muttered.

Pythagoras shot him a sympathetic look.

From his position on the outside of the little group Dion frowned. He seemed to be missing half the conversation here. No matter how much he might want to find out what the three men were talking about, however, his duty was make sure that Jason was returned to the Palace as quickly as possible and the longer they delayed the worse the Queen's reaction would be. With that in mind he cleared his throat meaningfully.

"We must return to the Palace immediately," he said firmly. "I would like to know how you got out with such ease though," he added, turning to Jason as they began to walk."

Jason frowned.

"It was actually pretty easy," he admitted. "There's a door… a servants entrance… I was shown it once, months ago. It wasn't even guarded." His frown deepened. "It was odd. I'd sort of expected that all the doors would be guarded… especially after the other night."

"What happened the other night?" Dion asked.

Jason looked a little embarrassed.

"I sort of got out of the Palace," he answered shortly. "It's a couple of weeks ago now. I needed to go to the Temple… the King wasn't very happy… especially since I was still on crutches at the time and still managed to get past all the Palace guards without them noticing me. He ordered the Captain to increase security after that."

"Hmm," Dion rumbled. "You say this entrance was not guarded at all this evening?"

"Yeah," Jason said. "I was expecting to have to try to talk my way past a couple of guards but there was no-one there."

"But you told no-one of this?" Dion asked.

"I didn't know who to tell," Jason answered sharply. "The Palace guards don't know me and would have no reason to believe me… and I didn't really want to end up being arrested. Then the battle started and it went out of my mind."

Dion nodded.

"Very well," he said. "But I think I would like you to show me where this door is. If nothing else I feel that the matter must be reported to the King and to the Captain of the Palace Guard."

As they passed the second barricade several soldiers joined them, forming up into a small unit behind their general. Jason recognised one or two of the faces as the soldiers who had helped to free the children from the slavers. It appeared that these were the troops under Dion's personal command. Still as they formed up around him the young man couldn't help but swallow hard. No matter how he tried to convince himself that there was no need to worry the presence of the soldiers still made him feel a little like a condemned prisoner on his way to his execution.

* * *

Anaxandros stood in the throne room of the Palace, a cruel smile gracing his lips. He had done it; he had captured the Palace and soon all the city would be beneath his heel. It was true that he had yet to capture the royal family but surely it could not be long now? There were few places that they could be hiding. With narrowed eyes he surveyed the room. From what he had seen of the Atlantian Palace his own court in Amphigeneia could not even begin to compete in terms of opulence and wealth. Perhaps, rather than immediately turning over Atlantis to his son for the idiot to rule as a vassal state firmly under the heel of Amphigeneia, he should set his court up here – at least until the wealth of Atlantis was stripped and sent to Amphigeneia and his own Palace refurbished to suit the position of a ruler of his status. When Atlantis as stripped of its wealth and dignity and its resources were being diverted to his own capital, only then would Anaxandros send for his son and return to his home.

A noise from a doorway at the side of the room caught his attention; shuffling feet followed by a clearing throat.

"What?" Anaxandros demanded harshly.

"My Lord," Ceyx began formally, "you called for a report on our current position."

"Get on with it then," Anaxandros growled.

"The Palace is completely within our grasp," Ceyx answered promptly. "Our soldiers have destroyed the Atlantian guards. We are in the process of rooting out the last of the servants. Those that we have captured have been taken to the cells below the Palace already and are awaiting questioning. I believe that they will reveal all the secrets of the Palace with a little… persuasion."

"And what of Minos?"

"It would appear that the soon to be former King and Queen of Atlantis have taken refuge in the Temple," Ceyx said. "They are likely to be guarded well but as there is only one entrance into and out of the Temple they are caught like rats in a trap. I was awaiting your command before I ordered our men to attack the Temple."

"Do it," Anaxandros stated. "The sooner Minos is within our grasp the better."

"We do not have many men with us," Ceyx said carefully, only too aware that upsetting his King was a bad idea. "Storming the Temple might prove costly – especially as we need to maintain our grip on the Palace."

"Send a runner through the tunnels," Anaxandros growled. "Order them to send reinforcements through."

"It will be done, Your Majesty," the captain answered. He hesitated. "We have captured several of the Atlantian Palace guards. Do you wish me to order their immediate execution?"

"No," Anaxandros ground out. "We will make an example of them. Once Minos has been taken we will execute both him and his Queen in front of their people. Let all men see the might of Amphigeneia and know what will happen to those who defy me. The captives will be taken to points around the city and hung in the streets. It will be a deterrent for those people who might wish to challenge my right to the throne. The people will learn to obey me."

"Yes My Lord," Ceyx said. "I will see it done."

"The Princess is also in the Temple?" Anaxandros asked.

"We do not know Your Majesty," Ceyx answered. "But I do not think so. It appears that she has escaped capture for the time being but is not with her parents. One of the groups of soldiers we encountered had been sent to the Palace to fetch her."

"Find her," Anaxandros growled. "I want her unharmed. I have plans for the girl."

"You wish to execute her with her parents?" Ceyx said.

"No. She will be married off to my fool of a son. If the number of children the idiot has got on the serving girls is anything to go by he's good for breeding if nothing else… and Minos' daughter will make a suitable brood mare for him. We can dispose of her at a later date once she has provided heirs."

"I will see that the girl is found and detained," Ceyx answered.

"What of the attack in the city?"

Ceyx hesitated again. He knew from past experience that giving Anaxandros bad news was akin to suicide. He swallowed hard.

"It is not quite as we had hoped My Lord," he ventured.

"How so?" Anaxandros demanded.

"Our forces met with more resistance than we had expected and have been driven back. They have been forced to retreat from the city."

Anaxandros cursed loudly.

"Have General Gurgos sent for," he ordered. "He will explain his failure to take the city to me personally and face the consequences of his failure."

Ceyx resisted the urge to wince.

"My Lord I am merely a captain. I have no authority to order a general," he felt compelled to point out."

"No General Ceyx, you _were_ a captain," Anaxandros growled. "Just as Gurgos _was_ a general… do I make myself clear?"

"Perfectly Your Majesty," Ceyx answered, coming to attention.

"Good. Now see that my orders are followed. Once we have taken the Temple as well as the Palace the rest of the city will quickly come to heel. Now that we are inside the city we will undoubtedly be able to reopen the gates for the rest of the army and reign down retribution on those who have dared to defy me. Once the people know that their King has fallen they will quickly give up this futile fight."

Ceyx slammed his fist into his chest in salute, turned and marched out of the room. Anaxandros smiled again. There was nowhere left for Minos to hide. Everything he wanted was within his grasp.

* * *

"It's just up here."

Jason gestured towards an alleyway as he spoke, striding towards it purposefully. Before he got to the entrance though he stopped and looked around with a deepening frown, staring at a spot further down the street from where they stood where a metal grating was hanging half off its hinges. Pythagoras turned to see what he was looking at. The grating covered one of the myriad of entrances to the sewers beneath the city – entrances that allowed the men who kept the drains relatively clear to access the tunnels that lay beneath the city.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Something's wrong," Jason answered absently. "That grate was closed when I came past earlier."

"Are you sure?" Pythagoras queried. "You left the Palace in a bit of a hurry. It would be easy to mistake one grate for another under those circumstances."

"No it was definitely closed," Jason retorted. "I remember because I skidded slightly and almost kicked it."

"What does it matter anyway?" Hercules groused. "Closed or open it's just a grate. One of the men who clear the drains probably opened it to get to work."

"On a night when an invading army has broken into the city?" Pythagoras asked.

"Maybe you're right," Jason muttered. "I don't suppose it matters… it's just that I've got a bad feeling…"

"Probably something you ate," Hercules said sagely.

"Not _that_ sort of bad feeling," Jason answered with irritation. "It feels like something's wrong."

"What?" Pythagoras asked.

"I don't know," Jason murmured, scanning the street again. "Something."

"Well that's very helpful!" Hercules grumbled. "Are we going to stand out here all day just because you've got the heebie-jeebies?"

"Hercules!" Pythagoras couldn't contain his annoyed exclamation.

"No," Jason said. "He's right. We need to go… I'm being silly." He turned to Dion. "Sorry for the delay. It's this way."

The alleyway was quiet; almost too quiet to Dion's military mind. Almost unconsciously he loosened his sword in its sheath, noticing that his men followed suit – taking their cue from their leader. He turned back towards Jason and followed the young man down the alley.

About half way down the street Jason stopped. On his left hand side there was a door. It was slightly ajar. Jason looked at it and frowned deeply.

"Now I know I shut it behind me," he said with certainty. "I didn't want anyone working out which way I'd gone too quickly."

"Look," Pythagoras said sharply. He stooped and picked up a tiny scrap of green woollen fabric; the corner of a cloak that had been caught in the door as it closed and torn away.

"So some poor servant tore their dress or their cloak," Hercules answered with confusion. "Why are you getting all excited about it? I swear you boys get edgy about the most ridiculous things."

Jason reached out and took the scrap from Pythagoras. As his fingers brushed the edge of the fabric an image sprang unbidden into his mind with such force that he unconsciously leant against the door frame in order to keep his balance.

"They came through here," he said almost dreamily.

"What are you jabbering on about?" Hercules asked sharply.

"There were only fifty of them but the guards inside were unprepared," Jason went on in the same dreamy, absent tone.

Pythagoras shuddered slightly at his friend's distant expression.

"Jason?" he asked. "Are you alright?"

"They killed all the guards who fought them… although some surrendered and were captured," Jason continued, blissfully unaware of the fact that everyone was watching him; Hercules and Pythagoras with growing worry and the Atlantian soldiers with scepticism. "And they took the servants to the cells. Now they've sent men through the tunnels to get reinforcements." He trailed off into silence, eyes distant.

Suddenly his eyes flicked back into sharp focus; his mind fully back in the present. The rapid change was startling. Pythagoras couldn't help exchanging an anxious look with Hercules.

"Jason?" he asked again.

"The Amphigeneians are in the Palace," Jason answered urgently.

"What are you talking about?" Hercules demanded. "We pushed them back out of the city. You were there."

"I know," Jason retorted. "But they're here all the same. They've come through the tunnels."

"Jason, how could you possibly know that?" Pythagoras asked.

Jason hesitated.

"I can't explain," he admitted. "I don't _know_ how I know it… I just do. It all fits together; the open grate, the open door, the scrap of green wool, all of it."

"There are certainly worrying signs," Dion growled, "and it would certainly pay us to be wary."

"General, are we really going to listen to this moonstruck boy?" one of the soldiers accompanying Dion asked.

Dion turned with a frown.

"Peace Belos," he said to the soldier. "We are going to follow our orders and report to the King. The fact that this door was unlocked, unguarded and open is deeply concerning. It will not hurt to be careful. Take Eryx and scout ahead of us. I do not want any unpleasant surprises." He turned back to Jason and his friends. "Let's go," he said.

The corridors of the Palace were surprisingly deserted. This was the time of day when servants were usually found scurrying around, lighting the braziers, sweeping and cleaning the floors, baking the breads and beginning to prepare the foodstuffs that would grace the royal table and generally preparing the Palace for the day out of sight of the nobility and royal family, who would generally rise significantly later than those who served them. Now though the corridors were completely empty; there was no sign of the usual hive of activity. The small band made their way through the passageways with growing unease.

Ahead of them Belos and Eryx were waiting at a corner; Eryx peering around the edge while Belos gestured for the group following them to come forwards as quietly as possible, raising one finger to his lips to request silence. Dion gestured for his men to stop and crept forwards. Without being invited Jason moved to join him, followed a moment later by both Pythagoras and Hercules.

"Why are we stopped here?" Dion breathed as they came level with the two soldiers.

"There are Amphigeneian soldiers ahead," Belos whispered, studiously avoiding looking at Jason. "There's only three of them that I can see but they are blocking the corridor. If they spot us they'll raise the alarm."

"Are they facing towards us or away?" Jason murmured, his voice barely audible.

"Away," Belos answered.

"What exactly are you thinking?" Hercules asked Jason suspiciously.

"Creep up behind them and slit their throats," Jason answered.

"Are you out of your mind?" Hercules demanded. "If one of them turns around we'd be done for."

"It's not as insane as some of the things we've done," Jason argued defensively. "We'll be alright if we stick to the shadows."

"What shadows?" Hercules hissed. "It may have escaped your notice but the sun has already started to rise."

Jason peered carefully around the corner before drawing back to speak to his companions.

"There are still areas of shadow at the sides of the passage," he whispered. "It's not great cover and not the best plan but do you have any better ideas?" He addressed the question to Hercules.

"No," the big man admitted grudgingly.

"What you are proposing is murder," Pythagoras said.

"No," Jason responded. "It's war."

"I don't think we are going to come up with a better plan," Dion rumbled softly. He drew a long knife from a sheath at his belt. "The sooner we do this the better. The longer we spend debating the matter the more chance we have of being spotted… and I would like a better idea of the situation before our presence is discovered."

He crept forwards, keeping to the shadows on the far side of the corridor, with Jason and Hercules in tow.

In the end it was all too easy to dispatch the Amphigeneian soldiers, half asleep and looking in the wrong direction. Dion wiped his knife on the cloak of the man he had just killed and re-sheathed it, motioning for his men to join him.

"We need to get to the throne room," he said. "If the Amphigeneians have succeeded in completely taking the Palace then that is where they will be centred… and if they have not it may be where we find the King. We need information more than anything else."

"The state rooms are near the family wing aren't they?" Jason asked.

"Yes," Dion answered.

"Alright," his young companion continued. "If we slip out into the garden and cut across we'll end up at a door into the family wing. If we turn right from there and cut back through the Courtyard of the Sun we should come out near the state rooms. I doubt the Amphigeneians will be guarding the garden heavily, especially as there's no access to the outside world from it. It'll be a shortcut too… it's a much more direct route I'd think."

"I believe it would be," Dion answered. "I am surprised that you know it though."

"I don't like being cooped up," Jason explained, "so I've spent a fair bit of time out in the gardens over the past few days."

Dion couldn't help looking at the young man knowingly although he didn't say a word.

Like the corridors of the Palace, the gardens were eerily empty – although it was not entirely unheard of for them to be largely unpopulated at this time of day. It was still a little early for the main body of gardeners to be at work tending the trees and flowers planted to please the royal family, or the fruits and vegetables that graced their tables. Jason led the small group through with the certainty of someone who knows exactly where he is going. Even so Hercules couldn't help but worry a little. After all they had only been at the Palace for a couple of weeks and Jason had spent almost half of that time either in bed or confined indoors through illness and injury – mainly confined to his chambers in fact. How well could he really know the place? To Hercules' mind the Palace was not far off being a labyrinth of passageways – both public and private – and given that he was still regularly getting lost himself (apart from in the servant's areas where he used to visit Medusa – _ah Medusa… no, don't think of that right now!_ ), he couldn't see how Jason was so certain of their destination.

As they approached the far side of the garden, Jason slowed slightly – eyes darting around as he scanned the windows of the family wing for any visible threats. Hercules noticed that the trained soldiers under Dion's command were doing the same thing – as he himself had been doing unconsciously. He resisted the urge to give a wholly inappropriate smile – Jason was a born warrior – a born hero – whether the lad realised it or not.

The door back into the Palace looked innocuous enough and seemed undefended, although there was really no way of knowing what awaited them on the inside. Jason paused and ran a hand through his dark curls thoughtfully, before turning to face his companions.

"Once we're back inside," he said softly, "we're going to turn right and make for the Courtyard of the Sun. It's right on the edge of the family wing and the state rooms should be just on the other side. I don't really know them all that well though so we'll need to be careful."

"Fortunately I do know them," Dion answered. "It is the royal quarters I am less certain of and the garden is not somewhere I have had occasion to visit frequently."

"I would have thought you would have to know the King's private chambers," Pythagoras said with a frown. "As general are you not called upon to report to him there?"

"I am," Dion answered calmly. "But I have only recently returned to the city – as I believe I told you on the first night we met. I have been stationed on the borders of the kingdom for many years now and have had little time to reacquaint myself with the layout of the Palace."

Eryx, a dour faced soldier somewhere in his thirties, went ahead of the group once again as a scout but they encountered no-one. It was all going rather too well to Hercules' cynical mind. He had long since adopted the philosophy that as long as he was with his two friends what could go wrong would go wrong; none of them seemed to have a great deal of luck individually and together there were times when they seemed to approach the level of a natural disaster. With this in mind he moved cautiously, looking about himself suspiciously as though a whole army of Amphigeneians was going to appear from behind one of the closed doors they were passing.

It was when they were halfway across the Courtyard of the Sun that disaster finally struck. A shout went up from behind them, followed swiftly by pounding feet and all of a sudden there were enemy soldiers everywhere – outnumbering them at least three to one. Hercules grimly adjusted his grip as he drew his sword, wishing now that he hadn't discarded the war hammer he had been carrying in the aftermath of the battle – although there had seemed to be little point in keeping it at the time when all they were supposed to be doing was coming back to the Palace for Jason to be scolded by just about everyone. They had faced worse odds, he told himself – but these were no desperate bandits; these were the elite of the Amphigeneian army – highly trained soldiers who would take no prisoners.

Once again the world descended into the chaos of battle. The Atlantian soldiers gave as good as they got, fighting with a ferocity born of desperation. In spite of their advantage of numbers the Amphigeneians began to falter. Hercules glanced up from the soldier he had just killed, his eyes automatically seeking out his friends. Pythagoras was fighting near Dion and was seemingly unharmed, even showing a little skill as he took on an attacker. Jason was on the far side of the room, fighting two at once with a grace and skill that almost took Hercules' breath away. Watching Jason fight was almost like watching a dance; for someone who could be remarkably clumsy at times he possessed a grace and certainty to his movements that was fascinating to watch. Hercules watched him spin out of the way of a slashing sword and lunge forwards to skewer the enemy soldier on his blade, before turning to face his own next opponent. By the time he looked up again Pythagoras was disposing of his attacker quite neatly and Jason had moved on to meet another pair of enemies. A third soldier had crept up behind the young man, however, and Hercules leapt forwards with a strangled cry as the man raised his sword and began to slash it at the back of Jason's neck. Jason clearly hadn't seen the danger and Hercules knew there was no way he could get there in time. He began to call out in desperation, but before the blade could fall the enemy soldier collapsed like a puppet whose strings had been cut, an arrow buried low in his stomach.

Jason span around at the sound of the body falling behind him and looked with wide, surprised eyes at the soldier who had been about to take him unawares. He turned again to see where the unexpected arrow had come from and found Ariadne standing in the doorway loosing arrow after arrow with surprising skill, speed and precision. A young soldier stood at her side, defending her from any enemies who came too close.

An order rang out across the room and the Amphigeneians retreated for the time being. Dion stepped forwards to greet the Princess, knowing that they could not linger; the Amphigeneians were bound to attack again soon.

"My Lady," he said with a bow. "I am pleased to see you are unharmed."

"General Dion," Ariadne acknowledged. She turned and looked at Jason searchingly. "You're not hurt?"

"Thanks to you," Jason answered. "Where did you learn to shoot like that?"

"My father taught me. He believes that everyone should know how to defend themselves," Ariadne answered. "When I was a little girl we would sneak out of the citadel early in the morning and head to the forest, and he would teach me."

Jason grinned.

"I'm beginning to like your father more and more," he remarked.

"I am glad," Ariadne said. "He tries hard to be a good man and a good King… and he has always been a loving father."

They were interrupted by the pointed clearing of a throat.

"Not that I want to put a dampener on you two lovebirds or anything but we need to go… now!" Hercules groused. "We've got rid of them for the time being but the Amphigeneians will be back."

"Yes," Dion answered. "We must regroup and assess the situation and remaining here will do no good. We must know what has happened to the King."

"My father is safe in the Temple," Ariadne responded. "Nisos told me that he had taken your advice and joined the Queen there. Nisos had returned to the Palace to fetch me when the Amphigeneians attacked. We were making our way to the passage when we came across you."

"Very well," Dion said. "The news that the King is safe relieves me. We will make for the passage and decide what must be done once we have reached the King's side."

"Sir," Nisos interjected. "We were hiding in the shadows of a doorway near the throne room as Anaxandros' orders were relayed to his men. They have sent for reinforcements through the sewers beneath the city. They mean to attack the Temple and capture the King. They believe that once His Majesty is in their hands the city will surrender. I cannot tell how long it is since their reinforcements were sent for, however. The orders indicated that they had already been sent for some time earlier. It may be that they are already attacking the Temple as we speak."

"Then that is what we will have to stop," Dion answered. "Anaxandros is here in the city though?"

"I did not actually see him," Nisos admitted, "but that was certainly what the officer who came to order the men was implying."

"Then we may have chance to end this now," the big general murmured. He smiled faintly at the quizzical look he was getting from Ariadne. "How do you kill a snake?" he asked.

"I don't know," Ariadne answered.

"You cut off its head," Dion responded. "If we can dispose of Anaxandros here his forces will fall apart. They will be leaderless; uncoordinated. We will be able to end this siege and this war once and for all." He looked around at his surviving men. "Let's go," he said.

As the group, depleted by the loss of two soldiers who had been killed in the courtyard skirmish but bolstered by the inclusion of Ariadne, Nisos and Orithyia, set off they formed up protectively around the Princess. It was a move that was automatic – protecting the heir to the throne needed no discussion, it was simply an unwritten rule.

"Is that _my_ tunic you're wearing?" Jason asked the girl quietly, a laugh in his voice, as they walked beside one another.

Ariadne blushed.

"I left my chambers in my nightclothes," she admitted. "I knew I would need something a little more suitable to move around in and I didn't want anyone to know who I was. Your clothing seemed more appropriate than my own." Her eyes sparkled slightly as she spoke.

Jason chuckled.

"You look beautiful," he murmured softly, aware of the listening ears around them. Then he glanced back over his shoulder. "Why is Orithyia with you?" he asked.

"She was in the Palace when it fell and managed to evade the Amphigeneians," Ariadne answered. "It seemed safer to me for us to travel together rather than individually." She paused. "She has your cat in her basket," she said.

Jason blinked in surprise.

"Oh," he said. "Thank you."

"It is not I you should thank," Ariadne retorted. "Orithyia came to your chambers with the intention of rescuing Isosceles… it is her you should thank."

"I will once we're all safe," Jason answered. "We need to get rid of the Amphigeneians first."

As he spoke they halted. Before them was the door to the passage that linked the Palace to the Temple. Ariadne produced a large key from somewhere inside her tunic and unlocked it, holding the drapery that usually concealed the entrance to one side. With one hand she reached inside the opening, feeling for the torch that she knew was concealed there. Finding it she turned back and handed it to Jason to light.

"Let us go to my father," she said.

Jason peered into the tunnel, eyes straining to see into the darkness beyond the light cast by his torch. As the final soldier entered the passageway Ariadne darted to the back of the group and flicked the drapery back into place, closing the door and locking it firmly to ensure that no-one would know they had been there. With a nod to Dion she came forwards into the centre of the group again. Guided only by the light of that single torch they moved on, plunging into the darkness.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N So here we are at the end of another ride. Thank you all for sticking with me and my drivel for so long (it's been a monster this time hasn't it?)... and for leaving me such lovely reviews as you have throughout the course of this story.
> 
> For one last time (in this story at least) I hope you enjoy the chapter and please leave me a review to let me know what you think. :-)
> 
> For Polly, who's helped and inspired me from _Invictus_ onwards!

Minos looked down at his dozing wife, curled amongst a pile of rich furs on a cot provide by the priests of Poseidon, with a faint smile. She was a remarkable woman and her fortitude and strength could still surprise him even after all these years of marriage. Her time spent with the Oracle appeared to have calmed her immediate fears for her son's wellbeing and for a moment the King idly wondered what the seer had said to bring about such a change. Was it news of the battle? Was it a portent that the Amphigeneians were to be driven from their streets? Or perhaps she had said little but the quiet time spent at prayer away from the prying eyes of the world had allowed the Queen to rebuild her defences; to make sure her mask was firmly in place. Minos considered that possibility seriously. Pasiphae was good at hiding her true emotions from the world – played the part of the elegant untouchable Queen to perfection – but was she _that_ good? No, he decided. Whilst she would be perfectly capable of hiding her fears he doubted she would have been able to sleep at all if she truly believed harm might come to Jason. So the Oracle _must_ have said _something_ to relieve her mind.

But what of his own daughter? Minos frowned and paced towards the central bomos once again. The soldiers he had despatched to fetch Ariadne should have returned with the girl hours ago. There was the possibility that Dion had sent word to the Palace that he required reinforcements, under which circumstances Minos could understand that they might have been ordered to join the battle, but surely a swift message to the general would have rectified the situation. After all it had been Dion's idea for the royal family to spend the duration of the battle in the Temple in the first place. Surely the soldier Dion had sent to ensure their safe passage, Nisos, would have had the wherewithal to despatch a messenger to his commanding officer explaining his duty with regards to the Princess?

Yet he was still young and if a more senior officer had given him a direct order and refused to listen if he claimed to be on a mission from the King he might have been unable to refuse. Under those circumstances it was fully possible that he would not have been able to get a message to his ultimate commanding officer. Once he was down in the heat of the battle it might take time to find Dion, explain the situation and extricate himself. Once he had, no doubt he would return to his duty and bring Ariadne to the Temple. After all Dion had clearly entrusted the young man with the safety of the royal family despite his apparently junior position. All Minos needed to do was wait and his daughter would surely be brought to him.

It was the waiting that was the hardest part though. Minos resumed his quiet pacing, his mind on his city and the battle that was raging in the streets below. How he wished he could be there leading his people; how he wished he still possessed the strength of his past. He would not abandon his people in their hour of need. It felt wrong to be here in the safety of the Temple while in the streets the battle for life and liberty continued.

Minos' mind strayed to his stepson. What to do about the problem that Jason presented? The boy had broken their trust; deliberately defied a direct instruction. It could not be allowed to go unpunished. The boy must be made to see how much worry and upset he had caused; must learn that they only had his best interests at heart. He simply could not be allowed to frighten his mother in the way he had. It was clear that Jason lacked discipline – had been allowed to run wild for far too long – and it was most definitely past time to put that right. The King believed from his own acquaintance with the lad that Jason had a good heart and was basically a decent and loyal young man, eager to please. Once he had been made to see the error of his ways Minos was sure he would be contrite.

That wasn't to say though that he wouldn't need to earn back their trust. He would need to be watched a lot more closely than he had been to ensure that he did not rebel in this manner again. Although actually Minos understood the boy's actions even if he could not condone them – mainly due to the distress it had caused Pasiphae. He stopped and shook his head ruefully. He really did need to stop thinking of his stepson as a boy – he was a full grown man not a child. It was just that sometimes the lad seemed younger than his years. There was a wide eyed naivety to him – a shyness in his nature –that brought out all of the King's protective paternal instincts. Perhaps if he had grown up in the Palace as part of the royal household as had always been intended things would be different. As it was Jason had burst unexpectedly on them all and Minos found he had difficulty in reconciling the young man he saw in front of him with the child his wife had lost; saw a boy with so much potential and so much good in his nature who had clearly been neglected for far too long. Not for the first time the mental image of a half-trained, half-wild colt sprang into his mind.

No, he most certainly did understand his stepson's behaviour and applauded his need to protect and defend. That was definitely something that should be fostered, especially if the lad were to prove worthy of the position his mother desired for him. But the fact still remained that Jason was too impulsive; he had allowed his emotions to rule him; had allowed his heart to rule his head. There was intelligence in the lad's eyes, of that Minos was already aware, and he had already proved himself to be quick to learn in the lead up to the meeting with Anaxandros. Yet what good was that intelligence if he allowed himself to be ruled so utterly by his own emotions that he flew in the face of reason and acted in an impulsive and foolhardy manner?

Minos shook his head ruefully. Perhaps his stepson was simply very young – suffering from the impulsiveness and exuberance of youth. Yet part of his couldn't help but think that there was more to it than that. The boy had a tenacity and stoicism that went beyond his age and a stubborn streak as wide as a river running through his nature – was perhaps more like his mother than either he or Pasiphae would feel comfortable with. The King frowned. Really they needed to know more of Jason's background and upbringing to be able to judge how to deal with him properly. From the little they had gleaned (both from the lad's two friends and from Jason himself) Minos suspected that it had not been the happiest of childhoods; that Jason's desire to protect those he cared about now stemmed from loneliness. Learning more about the boy's past, however, might prove easier said than done since the King privately suspected he would have more luck trying to get blood from a stone than trying to prise information out of his obstinate and reticent stepson. If the boy's friends had so far been unable to persuade him to open up more then what chance did anyone else have with such a short acquaintance? It was a situation where tact and diplomacy might be required. Minos smiled. That at least was something he excelled in.

Stopping once again near the central bomos, the King frowned. He had been able to distract himself from worrying about his daughter for a short time by thinking about the problems they were currently encountering with his stepson but really where was Ariadne? The situation was growing beyond ridiculous. The soldiers he had despatched to ensure that his daughter was brought safely to the Temple should have returned here with the girl hours ago. He would have to investigate how this failure to follow his simple orders had happened and if necessary heads would roll!

The Temple was incredibly quiet at this time in the morning – especially remarkable given the sheer number of people who were sheltering here; refugees from the countryside; citizens whose homes were too close to the city walls for comfort in the face of the recent attacks; wounded soldiers and citizens, many too ill to be moved to somewhere more comfortable. The whole social spectrum of Atlantis was reflected in the current occupants of the Temple. Most of them slept on peacefully, never knowing that their King walked quietly among them, his eyes taking in everything. This was the beating heart of Atlantis – the city that he was so proud to be King of; these were _his_ people. Minos allowed a soft smile to touch his grim features. He had tried to be a good King to his people and prayed that the Gods would not look too harshly upon him; if nothing else he had managed to give the city peace for the past twenty years.

As dawn broke some of the occupants of the Temple began to stir; rousing from their slumber to face the new day and all the challenges it might bring. For the most part these early risers were drawn from the farming families who had arrived as refugees in the city; people whose livelihoods depended on them being able to rise before the sun to tend to the crops and animals. They began to rebuild the fires in the braziers (allowed to burn low overnight), to prepare breakfast and to pack away bedding. Every so often one of them would look up, spy the King with startled eyes and crouch low, head bowed – genuflecting before their monarch. Minos accepted these signs of subservience benevolently. He was the King after all and custom dictated that his people should show due reverence to Poseidon's son.

From far in the distance a horn call split the morning. The King listened intently, his relief growing. A soft noise close behind him made him turn, not truly worried that it could be an attacker – the guards who hovered at the edge of his sight would never allow anyone unknown and unapproved to approach the King – but still wishing to know who was interrupting his reverie. Pasiphae stood at his shoulder, a question in her dark eyes, although her face remained impassive; the mask of the Queen firmly in place. Whatever fears and doubts she harboured were well hidden.

"You slept well?" Minos asked softly.

"Indeed My Lord," the Queen answered. "I am well rested. Has Dion returned?"

Minos smiled gently, knowing that she was really asking whether Jason had been brought back from the city but not wanting to ask directly in the light of day when so many outside ears could overhear them.

"Not yet my love," he answered, noting the minute tightening in her shoulders at his response, "but it cannot be long now. The horns are calling to tell us that the Amphigeneians have been pushed back out of the city. Undoubtedly Dion will be here shortly to make his report and will be bringing those under his direct command with him."

Some of the tension seeped out of Pasiphae at the news. She looked around thoughtfully.

"I do not see Ariadne," she remarked sharply. "I know she takes her duties seriously but it would seem a little early for her to be at prayer."

Minos made an unhappy face.

"No," he responded. "She is not here. The guards I despatched last night to bring her to the Temple have singularly failed in their duty. Rest assured that as soon as I am able I will be looking into both this matter and their failure to prevent Jason from leaving the Palace last night. It seems incredible to me that just days after I impressed upon the Captain the importance of ensuring that all entrances to the Palace were guarded at all times, the boy has simply been able to walk out and no-one noticed him! I am aware of the intellectual limitations of the current Captain of the Palace Guard but I cannot allow this to go unpunished. If I find that there has been _any_ neglect – any dereliction of duty – I will shake the Palace Guards to their core. I will not have _my family_ endangered because those that are supposed to guard them are negligent. We will return to the Palace shortly. As soon as our children are safely with us again I will begin to make enquiries."

Pasiphae felt a sudden warm glow at the way Minos described both his own daughter and Jason as _their_ children. She had never in her wildest dreams expected him to take to the boy so quickly; but then, in spite of her longing to know her son from the moment she had learned of his identity, she had never really expected to take to him so quickly herself. Whilst she could not really say that she _knew_ Jason all that well yet; did not fully understand the complexities and depths of his character and could not anticipate how they might affect his actions; did not know enough of his past to even begin to attempt to counteract its effects on him; she had found him unexpectedly endearing. In spite of the apparent deficiencies in his education (which really she would have to assess properly and begin to address once Anaxandros was dealt with) she had already come to love her dark haired son with a fierceness that both surprised and frightened her a little.

"That would perhaps be for the best My Lord," she murmured to her husband. "The Captain has hardly covered himself in glory of late."

"No," Minos admitted. "As soon as I have leisure I must decide whether he is to remain in position… and also make a final judgement on Lord Kephalon. He has acted as a fool yet his behaviour was not truly treasonous… I must think on the matter." He paused, eyes hardening. "Once your son has been brought back to the Palace I want you to bring him to my study. There are things that I believe I need to _explain_ to him."

Pasiphae nodded, a faint smile gracing her features – no more than a faint upturning at the corners of her mouth. She was, of course, planning her own "discussion" with her wayward son and fully intended that by the time she was finished Jason wouldn't dream of putting so much as a _toe_ out of line, but an additional reprimand from the King would only help to cement matters. Jason may have believed that he had good reasons for disobeying orders (and part of her definitely understood what the death of the child would have done to someone of Jason's surprisingly sensitive nature) but he would not be making the mistake of acting without permission in the near future; would not leave without letting someone know where he was going; would not be straying far from her side at all if she could very much help it. As soon as the boy was back within her sight she was going to make sure he stayed there. Would not – could not – risk losing him through his own impetuousness.

"It will be as you wish," she murmured softly to her husband.

Minos smiled at her and returned to the central bomos once more, seeking solace in prayer. With hands outstretched and eyes closed he began to utter the ritual phrases of a prayer to Poseidon, pausing occasionally to pour a libation of watered down wine or oil onto the bomos from a phiale prepared in advance by the priests of Poseidon, or to cast a tied bunch of herbs onto the fire at the back of the altar.

Pasiphae watched him quietly from the shadow of one of the great pillars. Her own personal allegiance might be to Hekate but she still revered and honoured all the Gods and owed familial allegiance to Poseidon through her marriages. Later, once she was assured of her son's safe return unharmed from his part in the night's battle (because she could not imagine that he wouldn't have taken part), she would return to the Temple to make an offering and thank Poseidon personally for protecting Jason. For now though she was content to watch her husband at his devotions. As his chanting continued, however, the sound of clashing swords and shouted war cries reached her ears. Pasiphae frowned and looked towards the main doors, noticing out of the corner of her eye that Minos, interrupted in his prayers, had also turned around with a deep frown. With hasty steps she moved to join him as the doors to the Temple burst inwards.

The first rush of enemy soldiers charging in through the doors took everyone by surprise. Many of the people taking refuge in the great structure were unarmed. They tried to scramble back away from the Amphigeneian attackers as quickly as they could. Those that did attempt to draw a weapon were simply cut down where they stood – no match for a well-trained and disciplined opponent. Those Palace Guards who had been left in the Temple to guard the King and Queen rushed to surround their monarch as best they could, engaging the enemy in what was really a hopeless battle against overwhelming odds.

Minos watched the Amphigeneians' attack with growing horror and rage. These savages would dare to defile the Temple? Had they no respect for the Gods? With dread he realised that there was a chance that the Palace had already been taken. That would explain why Ariadne had not joined them as expected. Had she been captured? Or worse, was his beloved daughter already a victim to the enemy savagery? He could not allow himself to believe that. Even now when all was apparently lost Minos had to believe that Ariadne was safe; that she would escape.

From the doorway, Anaxandros began to stalk forwards towards his enemy, knowing that there was no resistance the Atlantians in the Temple could make that would be effective against his soldiers. He had acted sooner that his new general would have liked – had not waited for reinforcements to come through the tunnels below the city – but his gamble had paid off. The soldiers guarding the Temple door had been taken completely by surprise and he was safe in the knowledge that more of his army would join them shortly – a runner, coming in advance of the main body of men, had informed him of that shortly before he had attacked.

As Anaxandros marched forwards, one of his officers rolled an object towards the Atlantian guards. It came to a stop not far in front of the King. It was the head of the Captain of the Palace Guard, still bearing an expression of outraged shock. Minos looked at it with revulsion. He was no stranger to battle or to the atrocities men inflicted upon one another at such times but this was a horror beyond the norms. Anaxandros really did have no honour at all.

Anaxandros stopped, gloating at the expression of repugnance on his rival's face.

"Bring their priestess… their so called 'Oracle' to me and we will prove to the world just how false her predictions have been," he growled to a soldier at his side. "The Gods have spoken this night and have given me that which is rightfully mine. Poseidon has abandoned his people while Hermes blesses Amphigeneia. Go."

The Amphigeneian King began to stride across the floor of the Temple of Poseidon once again, his green cloak flapping around the back of his legs. The light from the braziers caught the silver threads forming a deep pattern at the border of his cloak. A small troop of green cloaked soldiers fanned out behind him, taking up positions around the great chamber of the Temple as their leader approached the main bomos in the shadow of the great bull statue. In front of the altar the King of Atlantis stood with his wife at his side. Minos stood with his head held high, an animal at bay but still unbowed. Anaxandros approached him, sneering. He stared at Minos with an arrogant and cruel smile. This was the moment he had waited for; the moment he had dreamed of. He had won. The line of Atlantian Kings ended today.

From the side of the chamber a soldier approached, dragging the Oracle with him, one slim arm held in aniron hard grip, his fingers digging in with a force that was bound to leave bruises later. Anaxandros turned his cold gaze on her without a word, his lips drawn back with pleasure as an unholy light came into his eyes.

"Let all men know that Poseidon has abandoned his favoured city," he growled. "He will not save you."

At a click of his fingers the Oracle was dragged over to the bomos and bent backwards over it, heldin place by two warriors. The Amphigeneian King approached her with his swordraised _,_ ready to strike down _._

* * *

The darkness seemed to press in around Jason, black and oppressive. The faint light being cast by the torch that Ariadne had taken from him and held as high above her head as the low ceiling would allow, did little to break the blackness, illuminating their path only a few steps ahead. At the slow pace they were moving at in order for the whole group to stay together the passage seemed interminable. Jason could feel himself growing more anxious with every step, heart rate speeding up and beginning to pound in his chest and nails biting into his palms where his fists were clenched so tightly at his sides. _You're being ridiculous_ , he told himself firmly, _you've been this way before and you know it's perfectly safe_.

He had been down the passageway several times now. It was just that the first time he had been hurrying to escape capture and certain execution for treason, the second time (after his little trip to visit the naiads) he had been a little too tired to really register where he was going, and the last couple of times the passage had been well lit. Moving down it now at a snail's pace with little light to show what was around them was a whole different matter, however.

The truth was that Jason had always been more than a little claustrophobic; hated small, dark spaces with a passion. He supposed the incident with Mrs Johnstone and the under stairs cupboard may have had something to do with it and it had only grown worse in the wake of his accident in the sub. It was an irrational fear and one that he tried very hard to keep to himself. While he knew that neither one of his friends would tease him for it (at least not anymore) he still hated to feel that weak and childish, telling himself that he was just being stupid. It was a fear that he had faced with disturbing regularity since coming to Atlantis, given how many times they seemed to end up in a cave (and he had to admit that being locked in the underfloor storage space by Hercules hadn't been the most comfortable experience he'd ever had – although he had a feeling that the burly wrestler would be horrified if he knew just how desperate Jason had been to escape on waking), but usually he was far too busy or too deeply involved in a fight to stop to think about it. It was when he had time to process where he was that the trouble started. No matter how much he told himself that his reaction was irrational and that there really was nothing to worry about he still couldn't stop the unreasoning panic that began to creep over him, the way his heart rate increased, his breathing sped up and the way his palms began to sweat. Most of the time he could hide it – even from those who were closest to him – and he supposed that was at least one thing to be grateful for.

Now that unreasoning panic was creeping over him with full force. The blackness seemed to close in around him, threatening to crush him at any moment. Jason swallowed hard and rubbed his damp palms against his trouser legs, immediately clenching his hands into fists afterwards, nails once again biting viciously into his palms as he tried to regain some measure of control. A gentle but insistent tugging pulled his hand out of its tight curl and delicate fingers intertwined with his. Jason glanced across to find Ariadne watching him with a knowing expression and a soft smile.

"I am afraid of heights," she whispered so that only he could hear her. "Being afraid of something is nothing to be ashamed of."

Jason squeezed her fingers gently and attempted a weak smile. God but he loved this woman – loved how perceptive she was.

"I'll be glad to get out of here," he murmured, looking ahead at the backs of the soldiers leading their little group.

"Me too," Ariadne answered softly. "I will be glad when we have found my father. Once we know he is safe we can start to think about how to retake the Palace."

Jason nodded. He could more than understand Ariadne's desire to get to her father above all things. While the situation might still be dire it would at least be manageable if they were all together and did not have to try to find one another. In this sort of circumstance the safety of both the King and the Princess (as heir to the throne) were paramount and they would be easier to defend if they were in one place. Of course it also meant that they be a single target if things went badly but Jason preferred not to think of that.

What _would_ they do when they reached the King? Jason wasn't stupid enough to believe that everything would just magically work out from there. With Anaxandros sending for reinforcements they would somehow have to get word to the soldiers in the city that the Temple was under attack and then hold out until their own reinforcements arrived. But that would leave the city walls vulnerable to the next Amphigeneian attack. Try though he might Jason simply could not see a solution to this problem without appalling loss of life. He muttered a prayer of thanks to whatever Gods might be listening that it was Dion that would have to make the impossible tactical decisions and not himself. Somehow he thought Dion would be much better at it.

Ahead of them Dion called a halt. Unable to help himself, Jason pushed through the tightly packed formation of soldiers with Ariadne still holding his hand and Hercules and Pythagoras following.

"What is it?" he asked the big general tensely.

Dion turned to look at the young man. He noted the way his fingers were woven through the Princess' and the protective nature of his stance and inwardly smiled to himself. He had already seen for himself the way Princess Ariadne had stepped forwards to defend Jason when it had proved necessary. It would appear that the Prince and Princess (for Jason _was_ a Prince of Atlantis even if that had not yet been publically acknowledged) had feelings for one another. That might be helpful in the long run. Aside from the political implications in the long-term (which Dion really didn't have time to consider properly at the moment) in the short term it would mean that they would defend one another more fiercely than might otherwise be the case. Of course, given that the big general's duty was to protect the members of the royal family, it might also mean that he would have to be on the lookout in case either of them did something impulsively stupid to try to save the other but he felt it was better for him to have learned it now rather than have it come as a surprise in the heat of battle when he would not be prepared to deal with it.

"We are nearing the end of the passageway," he said in answer to Jason's question. "We must be careful until we know what the situation in the Temple is."

"You think the Amphigeneians might already be there?" Ariadne asked in a horrified whisper.

"I think it would pay us to be prudent," Dion responded. "If they _are_ in the Temple then it may be that they have not yet had time to strengthen their position or for their reinforcements to arrive. In such a situation we might be able to take them by surprise and gain the upper hand fairly quickly. Belos will once again go first and call us forwards as soon as he is able."

Jason nodded tightly.

"Okay," he answered.

Standing still and waiting to be called onwards was even more unbearable than the seemingly interminable march through the passageway had been. Jason swallowed hard as a wave of anxiety swept over him, increasing in strength as it came. He bowed his head to try to regain full control of himself and felt Ariadne's grasp on his fingers tighten supportively. Their movement through the passage had stirred up dust which now caught in the back of his throat, irritating it. Jason swallowed again, futilely trying to suppress cough after cough that bubbled up annoyingly from his chest. Within moments he was almost doubled over, hacking, his lungs on fire and his eyes streaming. A heavy hand pounded against his back as he continued to cough and splutter, nearly retching and gasping for breath. Eventually the fit passed and Jason began to straighten, still slightly breathless, and noticed the concerned glances his friends were exchanging over his head.

"I'm fine," he croaked as another hacking cough threatened to bubble up. "It's just the dust."

Dion raised an eyebrow but wordlessly handed the young man a water skin grabbed from the belt of one of his men. Jason took it gratefully and took a long swig, letting the water soothe his throat. It was lukewarm and gritty but was still wonderfully relieving. Now if he could just persuade the fire in his chest to subside a little he would be good to go. He leant back against the roughly hewn wall of the passage, feeling the cool rock at his back and closed his eyes, concentrating on getting his breathing back to normal again. Ariadne, he noticed almost absently, had still not let go of his hand and was drawing soothing patterns on the back with her fingers. For a long moment Jason remained still, then slowly he opened his eyes and ventured a smile at the Princess, handing back the water skin to Dion as he did.

"Thanks," he muttered. "The dust just got into my throat. I'm better now."

He didn't miss the sceptical looks being thrown in his direction from both his friends and the Princess and resigned himself to a thorough examination from Pythagoras as soon as they both had time. A soft whistle from up ahead distracted all of them and in the faint light of the torch Belos' form could just be made out beckoning them onwards. Dion nodded and moved forwards to speak with his soldier, gesturing for everyone else to wait where they were. After a whispered conversation, just too quiet for his companions to hear, he came back.

"The Amphigeneians _are_ in the Temple," he murmured, "and Anaxandros is with them. At present the King has not been taken and Anaxandros has relatively few men with him – although he still outnumbers the guards in the Temple. We must be silent on exiting the passageway. We will regroup behind the nearest pillar to the main altar on this side of the Temple and attack them from there. With luck we will take them completely by surprise and the tide of the battle may be turned in our favour."

"And if it seems the King is in danger?" Jason asked softly.

"Then we attack at once," Dion responded. "Our primary goal must be the safety and protection of the King." He hesitated and glanced at Ariadne. "If that happens I will expect both of you to stay back," he said looking from Ariadne to Jason and then back again. "My orders are to protect the members of the royal family at all costs and I cannot fulfil them if the pair of you are placing yourselves into danger."

Jason frowned.

"If the worst happens you'll need all the fighters you can get," he protested.

"Yes," Dion answered. "But I cannot be distracted by concern for the Princess' well-being… or for yours." He hesitated again, aware of the presence of his men and aware of the King's edict to keep Jason's identity secret for the time being. "I am asking you to remain with the Princess to protect her. Nisos will remain with you as well."

"I can't promise not to get involved if the fight comes our way," Jason answered, "but you have my word that I will do everything I can to keep Ariadne safe."

"We will keep one another safe," Ariadne answered sharply, a hint of iron in her tone. "But I will not stand by and allow my father to be harmed."

"And I will not ask you to," Dion confirmed. "Your bow may prove useful to us... I just wish I had a few more archers to work with." He glanced from the Princess to Pythagoras; the only two bows within his group. "But for you to be effective you will need to stay back from the main fight and use your weapons at a distance. Whatever orders Nisos gives you, you must follow… and if he tells you to move you move."

"Very well," Ariadne answered. "I will do as you ask for now."

"Thank you My Lady," Dion said. "It will make my job easier if I do not have to worry too much about your safety."

The door into the passage from the Temple was even better concealed than the Palace end had been. Dion's small company slipped through it silently and took up positions behind the pillars nearest to the altar. Orithyia, her presence almost forgotten, hovered at the back of the group, her basket still slung over one arm and the long knife Nisos had given her clutched in one hand. To be honest she wasn't entirely sure what she was doing here but it was too late to leave now. Besides which she had promised herself that she would stay with the Princess; protect the girl as best she could, although right now she wasn't sure how much use she'd be.

Jason peered out around the pillar he was sheltering behind. Ahead of him Anaxandros stalked across the Temple floor towards where Minos and Pasiphae stood. The King of Atlantis had his head held high; unbowed even in the face of Amphigeneian savagery. Anaxandros had a cruel sneer on his face; an unholy light in his eyes. From the side of the Temple a soldier dragged the Oracle, her slender arm held in an iron grip, his fingers biting into her skin in a way that was sure to leave bruises. Melas, High Priest of Poseidon, stumbled up the stairs from the Oracular chamber, his eyes wide and angry, unable to prevent the desecration of his beloved Temple or the mistreatment of the Oracle. Jason froze. It was happening again. He had dreamt this scene; knew what was going to happen. There was no time to analyse what it meant now though; if the scene played out the way it had in his dreams he had very little time to act. Mentally he started to measure the distance between where he stood and the bomos, and to move towards it – even though he knew deep down that there was no way he would be able to cross the distance in the time he had left.

"Let all men know that Poseidon has abandoned his favoured city," Anaxandros proclaimed. "He will not save you."

He clicked his fingers and the Oracle was bent backwards over the altar and held down by two of the Amphigeneian soldiers, even as another two held back the King and Queen. With a cruel smile Anaxandros raised his curved sword high above his head and began to slash it down towards the Oracle in a killing stroke.

"I'm going to enjoy this," he said to no-one in particular.

Jason raced across the floor of the Temple even as the blade began to descend. He wasn't going to make it! There was no way he could reach the altar in time to intercept that fatal blow. Behind him he could dimly hear the sounds of the soldiers he had entered the Temple with following him, engaging the enemy as they came, but his whole focus was on the scene ahead of him. Without thinking – without even breaking his stride – he drew a knife from the sheath tied to the lacing rings on his breastplate and threw it in a smooth overhand cast, knowing it was the last chance he had to save a woman who had come to mean an awful lot to him.

The knife flew true. Even as Anaxandros began the downward stroke that would end the life of Poseidon's Oracle – that would see the Seeress sacrificed on her own altar – the blade pierced his shoulder, sinking deep into the muscle and driving his blow to one side. Instead of hitting the Oracle as Anaxandros intended, it bounced harmlessly (if forcefully) off the stone of the bomos; the sword falling from suddenly nerveless fingers as the shock and pain of the knife wound hit the Amphigeneian King. He turned with a snarl, dragging the knife from his shoulder and throwing it to one side, concentrating on the sudden and unexpected attack.

Unnoticed by everyone Pasiphae paced forwards, the soldier who had been restraining her having turned to face the onslaught, and collected up the bloody knife, secreting it in her dress. With her eyes firmly fixed upon the fighting form of her son, she collected a knife and sword from a dead Atlantian soldier, handing the sword off to her husband as she drew level with him once again.

Spinning, kicking, slashing, stabbing, Jason took out the two soldiers pinning the Oracle down. He grabbed her arm gently but firmly and dragged her back to her feet. With a gentle push he sent her running over towards the side of the Temple where Ariadne had taken up position firing a steady stream of arrows at the enemy while Nisos defended her from any attackers who ventured too close. Unable to spare more than a momentary thought for the Princess, Jason turned to face his next opponent. A glancing blow to the side of the head momentarily stunned him and for a moment he faltered, dropping to one knee as he tried to clear the ringing in his ears. A swift kick to the ribs drove the breath from his body and as white hot agony flared in his ribcage he thought he heard something crack. It would have to be the side he'd damaged falling down those stairs, he thought wryly even as he forced himself back onto his feet and fought off his attacker. Then the flare of pain was lost again in the adrenaline surge that battle brought. Jason fought on.

Behind the Amphigeneian soldiers, Anaxandros had managed to overcome the shock of the sudden assault and his injury, and was once more ordering his troops to press forwards, slashing about himself with a sword clutched in his left hand. It was clear that he was nowhere near as proficient with his off-hand as he was with his dominant one but he did not entirely lack skill either – as several of his opponents rapidly learned to their cost.

The tide of the battle was slowly but surely turning in the Atlantians favour, however. From the sides of the Temple, refugees grabbed whatever they could use as weapons and began to attack the invaders enthusiastically if not skilfully. In the centre what remained of the guards who had been in the Temple to protect the King and Queen joined forces with Dion and his band of soldiers to drive the enemy back. The King fought with a level of skill that showed his origins as a warrior and the Queen came up behind an Amphigeneian soldier and, wrapping her free arm around his neck, stabbed her blade into his kidney, wrenching the wound as wide as she could with a vicious snarl.

Dion fought his way to the King's side, flanked by Hercules and Pythagoras.

"Your Majesty," he rumbled. "I am glad to see you are unharmed."

"Dion," Minos acknowledged. "You have arrived in the nick of time it seems."

Dion allowed a faint smile to grace his stern features.

"The battle is not won yet My Lord," he pointed out.

"No," Minos agreed.

A momentary lull around them allowed the King a brief glance around the Temple. On the opposite side from where he stood, Ariadne was still firing her bow with a level of skill and accuracy that made her father proud, even though he frowned deeply at the fact that his daughter was involved in a battle at all; Ariadne should not be having to fight like this, should not be in so much danger. Behind her the Oracle huddled together with an older woman holding a knife – a servant from the Palace, Minos realised. Nisos, the young soldier sent by Dion the night before to ensure the safety of the royal family, was at Ariadne's side, protecting her from attack with his own life if necessary. Near the altar Jason was fighting fiercely, ducking down and stabbing into an enemy soldier with a determined and ferocious expression on his face. Minos blinked in surprise. He had not seen this side of his stepson before; had witnessed the boy's stubbornness of course but had never really seen the warrior in him. Two Amphigeneian soldiers came at him from either side. With a speed and agility that to the King's eyes could only be a gift of the Gods Jason bent over backwards until his upper body was almost horizontal, allowing the swords of his attackers to clash harmlessly together over the top of him, pulling the two men off balance, before flicking back upright and dispatching one with a short thrust of his sword and the other with a neat slice.

The Amphigeneians continued their backwards retreat towards the entrance of the Temple, Anaxandros in the centre of them still spitting curses and trying to force them onwards. Minos allowed himself a brief smile. Dion was right of course – the battle was far from won – yet it seemed to the King that they were at least holding their own now. All they would need to do was to capture the Amphigeneian King and the rest of the soldiers would surely surrender – and if that proved impossible then they simply needed to drive the enemy from the streets, find a way of preventing their entry to the city again (because the King still did not know how they came to be here when the all clear had been sounded such a short time ago) and hold on until Atlantis' allies came to her aid.

As Minos turned back to exchange a brief glance with Pasiphae, checking that his wife was unharmed (and dear Gods but she looked magnificent in her anger – Amazonian almost), the doors to the Temple burst open once more. Minos could only look on in horror as the Amphigeneian reinforcements arrived, pouring in through the entrance in overwhelming numbers. He set himself grimly, grasping his sword more firmly. If it was his destiny to fall today in defence of the city that he loved then he would do it with a sword in his hand, fighting against the invaders. He would not abandon Atlantis to these savages; would fall with his city.

All around the King the Atlantians grasped whatever weapons they had and prepared for one final fight. This was a fight that most of them knew could not be won in the face of such overwhelming odds but they were prepared to lay down their lives if it gave their King a chance of survival and escape. Those civilians who were unarmed began to make a break for it through the open door of the Temple, allowed to leave by the Amphigeneians as they concentrated on anyone left fighting.

Jason edged his way over towards Ariadne and the Oracle, slashing and stabbing at any enemies in his way. He had promised Dion that he would try to protect Ariadne if he could and, while he was prepared to do everything he could to fulfil that promise, he wasn't sure it would be enough. An enemy archer rose up from nowhere to one side of him, drew and fired before he was properly aware what had happened.

"No!"

Jason heard Pasiphae's horrified and outraged cry as he turned. Then she was there in front of him. He would never know how she managed to cross the Temple so quickly, flying to his side, but he would never forget the dull 'thunk' as the arrow, meant for him, pierced her stomach. With a roar Hercules cut down the archer as Pasiphae staggered back towards the King, collapsing into her husband's arms. Jason froze, unable to take his eyes from her slender form. Then his instincts kicked in again as the Amphigeneians surged forwards, cutting him off from his mother, stepfather and friends, and fighting off this renewed attack he retreated step by step until he was with Ariadne. Looking around he spotted Dion and Melas pulling the King towards the stairs to the Oracular chamber, defended by a few guards who surrounded them, while Hercules carried the still form of the Queen and Pythagoras brought up the rear. Jason couldn't help the feeling of dread that swept over him. Surely his friends would be trapped in the chamber? As far as he knew there was no way out other than the stairs they were descending. All the Amphigeneians would have to do would be to block the stairs and then they could pick off those who were currently retreating down into the chamber at their leisure – or simply starve them out. He didn't even know if his mother was still alive.

A hand on his arm made him turn, sword raised. He shouldn't be allowing himself to get distracted like that; had to focus and at least try to ensure the safety of both the Oracle and Ariadne. The Oracle blinked back at him, looking remarkably unconcerned. For a moment Jason envied her ability to hide her emotions because surely she could not be as unaffected as she seemed. She glanced around him at the opening that led to the stairs to her chamber.

"Melas will ensure their safety," she said with certainty.

"They're going to be trapped," Jason responded hopelessly. "I have to get to them."

"There is a passageway that runs beneath the Temple," the Oracle answered. "The entrance is known only to myself and Melas and is hidden in the Sanctuary. Melas will help them to escape through it and the naiads will see that the entrance to the Sanctuary itself is concealed from these savages. Poseidon will not abandon us now. They will emerge from the tunnel near the sacred grove at Dodona."

Jason swallowed hard and nodded. He looked around at the little group he was with. Ariadne looked scared but resolute – beautiful as ever – Orithyia clutched her knife and her basket and Nisos nodded at him with grim determination. If they were to make an escape themselves they would have to attempt it soon.

"Stay close," Jason said to the three women.

He charged out into the centre of the Temple with Nisos at his side, cutting a path to the doorway. With Nisos now leading the way, Jason herded Orithyia and the Oracle out through the entrance, pausing to look back longingly for a second at the opening his friends had disappeared through. Then Ariadne tugged at his hand, her bow slung across her back and a knife in her free hand.

"Come on," she said.

Jason nodded and followed her through the doorway, out into the unknown.

* * *

Minos watched his wife stumble as the Amphigeneian arrow pierced her abdomen with ever growing horror. This could not be real; could not be happening. She staggered towards him with the arrow still sticking out of her flesh grotesquely and fell into his outstretched arms. Minos did his best to hold her up under the circumstances but without knowing quite how it happened he dropped to his knees, Pasiphae cradled in his arms, his grip still tight on the hilt of his acquired sword. Pythagoras dropped down beside him, hands automatically going to the wound; probing, assessing. Minos absently recalled that it was probably unseemly for a peasant to have his hands on the Queen in this manner but if the boy could do anything to help his wife he would be only too grateful to see it happen.

"Jason?" Pasiphae's voice was cracked and full of pain; weak in a way that her husband had never thought to hear.

"He is unharmed my love," Minos soothed.

He actually had no real idea whether or not that was true and with the battle still raging around them knew that sooner or later the boy might be harmed but right now all he could think of was to comfort his injured wife. If she needed the consolation of believing her son to be unharmed then that was what he would give her. Without thinking his spare hand strayed to the arrow, grasping it in preparation of removing it from the wound; knowing that to do so would be agony for his wife but knowing that the shaft could not remain within her. He muttered a desperate prayer to Poseidon both that she would be made well and that she would soon lose her battle with consciousness – if only so that she might be spared a little pain. A firm hand grabbed his wrist, preventing him from drawing the arrow from Pasiphae's stomach and he looked up with an expression that was a mixture of affronted surprise and anguish. No-one would _dare_ to lay their hands on him in this manner under normal circumstances. Pythagoras looked back at him with compassion in his blue eyes, although his hand remained firmly clasped about the King's wrist.

"Don't," he said. "Do not try to remove it My Lord."

"The arrow cannot stay within her," Minos ground out.

"Indeed it cannot," Pythagoras responded. "But it cannot be removed here and now. The likelihood is that Her Majesty would bleed out if the arrow were to be removed here where I do not have access to proper medical supplies. I have nothing to pack the wound… no way of closing it. It would be far safer to leave the arrow where it is until I can treat it properly."

"I cannot bare to see it," Minos ground out.

"Then do not look My Lord," Pythagoras answered coolly. He looked around. "We need to get the Queen to safety," he added.

"And how exactly are we supposed to do that?" Hercules growled incredulously. "It may have escaped your notice but we're in the middle of a battle here!"

"I know that Hercules," Pythagoras snapped back, "but we need to try at least."

Pasiphae attempted to push herself out of her husband's arms and into a sitting position, struggling weakly against his hold. How she was still conscious no-one knew; sheer willpower Pythagoras privately suspected – a fortitude that her son had clearly inherited from her. At last though she had reached the end of her endurance. Her attempts to sit up in spite of the pain and blood loss were too much for her and she collapsed bonelessly against the King, her eyelids fluttering closed.

"My Lord," Melas hurried forwards. "You must come with me at once. There is a safe way out of the Temple and the city. Allow me to guide you to safety."

"I will not leave Atlantis to suffer under Anaxandros' tyranny," Minso retorted. "If the city falls then I will fall with it."

"The Queen needs treatment My Lord," Dion rumbled even as he fought off another attacker. "She will need you. Our first concern must be to get Her Majesty to safety."

Minos glared at his general. He couldn't deny the truth of Dion's words and knew that his wife's safety and wellbeing had to come first.

"If we are to go we must go now," Dion continued. "It will be too late if we delay any longer."

"Where is my daughter?" Minos asked. "Where is Ariadne?"

"We cannot get to her My Lord," Hercules answered with a quick glance across the Temple. "There are too many Amphigeneians between us. Jason's with her though… he won't let any harm come to her."

"I cannot leave without my daughter," Minos asserted.

"There is no choice Your Majesty," Dion answered. "If you delay now any escape will be impossible. You will be no use to Princess Ariadne if you are captured or killed by the Amphigeneians."

"I cannot leave without Ariadne," Minos growled.

"You must leave now," Dion said flatly.

Hercules bent and plucked Pasiphae from Minos' lap. If anyone had told him just a few weeks ago that he would be carrying the Queen – a woman he had long regarded as an evil witch – to safety after she had been injured saving the life of one of his closest friends Hercules would have laughed and thought that the plot came from a badly written play – yet here he was. The King might have something to say about his apparent lack of respect but right now all Hercules could think of was ensuring that everyone was safe and sound. He glanced across the Temple. There was no way he could reach Jason – no way they could join their friend – so the best he could do was try to help Jason's mother, knowing that it was what his friend would want.

As Dion and Melas began to herd the King towards the steps leading down to the inner sanctum, half pulling Minos towards their goal, Hercules followed on, the Queen carried securely in his big arms. Three of Dion's surviving soldiers drew up around them, ready to follow orders and lay down their lives for their King and their city. With Pythagoras bringing up the rear the burly wrestler began to walk slowly down the stairs, taking extra care not to drop the woman he was carrying – that would, he felt, be a spectacularly bad idea with potentially fatal consequences; Minos would not be forgiving.

At the bottom of the steps he paused to catch his breath. Melas stalked ahead to the door to the Sanctuary, almost invisible in this light. Hercules looked up as Pythagoras trotted down the stairs to join them.

"I watched from the doorway," he said. "It will not be long until the Amphigeneians come to investigate down here. We need to move quickly."

"And Jason?" Hercules asked.

"He got out of the Temple with the Oracle and the Princess," Pythagoras answered, casting a sympathetic look at the King. "As far as I could tell none of them were harmed. Beyond that I do not know. We must have faith that Jason will find his way out of the city and join us."

"You really believe that?" Hercules asked.

"Yes," Pythagoras said with certainty. "It is Jason. He is special. If anyone can escape the city and keep both the Oracle and the Princess safe it is him. He has a talent for getting himself and those with him out of trouble."

"Only after he's got them into it in the first place," Hercules grunted.

Ahead of them Melas had got the door to the Sanctuary open. Hercules gently adjusted his grip on the Queen, noting somewhat grimly that she showed no signs of regaining consciousness anytime soon. As Dion forced the King onwards, Hercules nodded to Pythagoras and followed in their wake, leaving the three soldiers to bring up the rear.

"The tunnels come out near the sacred grove at Dodona," Melas murmured. "The Oracle will guide Jason to meet us there. There are gulleys and caves nearby where we might shelter but we must make haste."

He pulled the door to the Sanctuary shut behind himself and barred the door from the inside. Muttering a swift prayer under his breath to ask Poseidon to guide their steps and keep them safe, he led the small group to the far edge of the pool where Hercules and the King had seen the naiads. It was strange, Hercules thought, how that night was really less than two weeks ago and yet it felt like a lifetime. There, hidden in the crystal set rock face, was a little opening; no more than a crack in the rock. It was the entrance to the tunnel; the final way of escape for the servants of Poseidon in times of trouble. Lighting torches that would guide their footsteps and handing them around the group, Melas led them inside and away from the carnage in the main Temple above their heads.

* * *

Jason raced down the steps of the Temple and into the square at the front of the great building with Nisos at his side. All around them the courtyard and steps were littered with the bodies of dead soldiers – both Amphigeneian and Atlantian. Mute testament to the ferocity of the battle for control of the citadel. Refugees poured from the Temple and out into the streets of the city, seeking shelter wherever they could as more and more Amphigeneian soldiers flooded the square, having come through the sewers beneath the city. The city was lost, Jason knew. It was only a matter of time until the Amphigeneians sent soldiers to take the Telapius Gate from the inside, opening it to the bulk of their army.

Knowing that Ariadne, Orithyia and the Oracle were close behind him, the young man raced forwards, slashing and stabbing every enemy soldier who got in his way. Alongside him Nisos was keeping pace, as between them they cleared a path in an attempt to escape. Taken slightly off balance by a downward slash to an Amphigeneian soldier's back, Jason dropped to the floor and rolled, ignoring the sudden flair of pain from his ribcage as he came up to his feet again, driving his sword up into the stomach of another enemy.

Then suddenly they were clear, fleeing down the steps into the city and down towards the lower town. It would not be long until the Amphigeneians came hunting for them, Jason knew. The presence of the Oracle of Poseidon and the heir to the throne in the form of Ariadne would be something that Anaxandros could not afford to ignore. He would never willingly allow them to escape.

Pausing for a moment to regain their breath all five of them looked around desperately. Orithyia could of course have slipped away from the group safe in the knowledge that the Amphigeneians would not hunt her but for whatever reason she had chosen to stay with them.

"We won't escape the city in daylight," Jason said urgently. "We need to find a place to hide."

"But where can we go?" Nisos responded. "They will search everywhere for the Princess… every house… every building. They will not be content to allow us to escape."

"They won't start searching door to door for a few hours yet," Jason answered. "They will have to get full control of the city first. With luck we should be safe until nightfall as long as we get off the street."

"And what then?" Nisos asked. "I fear we will not find it easy to escape."

"I don't know," Jason admitted. "We can plan that once we're safely hiding." He paused and looked around at the little group. "I think I might know somewhere near here where we will be safe enough until nightfall," he added.

"Then what are we waiting for?" Ariadne retorted.

The house at the corner of the Sacred Way looked exactly as it had when Jason had left it over two months earlier. He wasn't entirely sure why that should surprise him and yet with all the turmoil that had happened over the last few weeks both in the city and his own life somehow he had thought that everything and everywhere he knew would seem different. It was comforting to realise that no matter what else had changed Meriones' house – the place that had been such a safe haven to him when he had needed it – had remained the same.

Entering through the outer door and closing it quickly behind them Jason put his eye to a gap in the wood and peered out. Amphigeneian soldiers were beginning to pour down onto the streets from the citadel to the shock and chagrin of the populous but as far as he could tell none of them looked twice at this doorway.

"I don't think anyone saw us," he said, leaning against the door for a moment as he tried to regain his breath.

"You're bleeding." Ariadne's soft and startled voice made him turn.

The Princess was looking at Nisos. The young soldier put one hand to his hip and drew it back, blood staining his fingers.

"It's nothing My Lady," he said. "Just a scratch."

"It should still be seen to," Ariadne argued.

"Come on," Jason said leading the way up the stairs to the inner door. "We can look at it properly once we're inside."

He hammered briefly on the door and waited for it to swing open. Meriones stood on the other side, a surprised frown on his large face.

"Jason," he said.

"Meriones," Jason responded. "I'm sorry to come to you like this but we need help."

"Then come inside," Meriones answered promptly. "What has happened?"

"The Palace and Temple have fallen to the Amphigeneians," Jason said.

"And the King?"

"He is safe," Jason answered. "Hercules and Pythagoras are with him. They are already on their way out of the city."

"Thank the Gods," Meriones sighed. He looked at Jason shrewdly. "I would have thought you would be with them."

"We were separated when the Temple was attacked," Jason admitted. "I could not get to them or leave in the same way they did." He hesitated. "We're going to try to get out of the city after dark… but we need somewhere to shelter for the day."

"My home is yours my friend," Meriones said promptly. "You know that. I told you once that there would be a bed for you… a place for you… here whenever you needed it. Shelter here for as long as you need. At dusk I will help you to leave the city."

Jason smiled.

"Thank you," he said with genuine gratitude. "I can never repay all you have done for me."

"Think nothing of it," Meriones answered. "You are my friend. Now who are your friends?" He indicated towards Jason's companions.

"I'm sorry," Jason said. "I'm forgetting my manners. This is Nisos, a soldier and guard." He gestured towards the other young man who gave a short bow to Meriones.

"Nisos," Meriones rumbled. "You are most welcome in my house… any friend of Jason's is a friend of mine."

"And this is Orithyia," Jason continued with a hand on the motherly woman's shoulder. "She's a servant at the Palace."

Meriones took her hand and bent low over it, kissing the knuckles with a twinkle in his blue eyes.

Jason hesitated.

"I'm sure you recognise the Oracle of Poseidon," he said softly as the Oracle lowered her hood, having raised it to try to partially conceal her identity in their dash from the Temple.

Meriones' eyes widened.

"My house is honoured," he said respectfully. "If there is any way I can be of service I would be privileged to help."

"And may I introduce the Princess Ariadne," Jason finished quietly with a smile towards Ariadne.

"My Lady," Meriones said bowing low.

"Ariadne, this is Meriones," Jason added gesturing towards the giant. "He is a respected merchant… among other things."

"My house is yours My Lady," Meriones said expansively. "Please… be comfortable here."

"Thank you," Ariadne answered with a warm smile.

"Are you hungry?" Meriones asked. "Or perhaps you would like to rest?" He added with a knowing look at Jason, taking in the way that weariness seemed to drip from the young man now that the adrenaline was beginning to wear off.

"It's been a long night," Jason acknowledged.

"Then rest for a while and I will prepare supplies for you," the giant merchant responded, resting one massive hand on the young man's shoulder. "You will need food and blankets if you are to make a journey."

* * *

"Where are they?"

Anaxandros was in a foul mood. His shoulder throbbed incessantly where the knife had pierced the muscle in spite of the painkilling tonics he had been given. Aeson's brat would be made to suffer for causing him this pain, he decided sourly. The boy would be found and brought back to face him in chains. He would make the brat suffer; the boy did not know the meaning of pain yet but he would – oh yes, he would. Anaxandros had men in his employ who could bring a man to the point of death time and time again without ever letting them tip over the edge. The boy would be rewarded a hundredfold for the injury he had inflicted upon the Amphigeneian King.

Dusk was fast approaching as Anaxandros tightened his grip upon Atlantis yet none of the fugitives had so far been found. The city was sealed off – as it had been since the start of the siege – but still they evaded him. Anaxandros raged.

"Send every soldier we have," he thundered. "Tear this city apart! I want them found! Search every house and every store. Let it be known that anyone helping the former King or any member of his family shall be hung up in the streets."

"It will be done My Lord," Ceyx answered with a fist to his chest in salute.

"Let's see how quickly the people turn against Minos," Anaxandros growled.

* * *

Dusk had fallen as Jason exited Meriones' house, pulling the hood of the cloak the giant merchant had insisted upon loaning him up over his head. Led by Meriones the little group slipped through the streets as quietly and secretly as possible, keeping to the shadows as far as they could. Only Orithyia had stayed behind. She would be safe enough in the city; would not be immediately associated with them. Meriones had promised Jason that he would look after her; until such time as the King returned (impossible though that thought seemed right at this moment in time) she would remain in the enormous man's household as a housekeeper – that way the Amphigeneians might not link her with the Palace at all. It also meant that Isosceles would be in a place that was at least semi-familiar to her and with a person that she recognised in the form of Meriones. Jason was grateful that even in the midst of everything that had happened the motherly servant had thought of his cat.

Now it was time to attempt to escape from the city. Meriones had assured them that he knew of a way that they might get out and was leading them there. Jason followed along with all his senses on high alert, the bag of supplies that his enormous friend had pressed upon him bouncing on one hip. He had not really slept properly in spite of Meriones' insistence that they should get as much rest as possible during the day, and the sleep he had managed had been troubled by disturbing dreams. His side ached constantly and he privately suspected that the cracked ribs that had been healing well had been re-broken by the kick from the Amphigeneian soldier in the Temple.

At a nondescript door several streets away from Meriones' home the giant paused and lifted a latch, pushing the door open and ushering his companions inside. The room they entered appeared to be a small warehouse – not unlike the one where they had dealt with Dakos months ago, Jason noted.

"We must move quickly," he rumbled. "It will not be long before they search this part of the city."

Gesturing to Jason and Nisos to help him he began to move a stack of crates, revealing a trapdoor below.

"It is a short tunnel," he said. "It will bring you out in the caves on the shore."

"This is a smuggler's tunnel," Nisos accused.

"I believe some people do call it that," Meriones responded blandly. "I discovered it when I purchased this building." He turned back to Jason. "You will not be able to use a torch or fear it might be seen," he cautioned. "But the tunnel runs straight and the moon should guide you once you near the end."

"I cannot thank you enough," Jason said softly.

"When you see Hercules tell him he owes me a dice game," Meriones answered, his voice thick. Then he reached out and clasped Jason's hand, pulling the young man in for a one armed hug. "May the Gods be with you my friend."

"And with you too," Jason said.

"Until we meet again," Meriones said in farewell, preparing to close the trapdoor behind the little group.

They ventured down the tunnel in silence, the only sound coming from their shuffling feet. Both men walked with one hand on their sword hilt while Ariadne, now equipped with a better hunting bow procured from Meriones' storeroom, held an arrow loosely knocked.

Before long they emerged from a cave on the shore, thankful that the giant merchant had been correct and that they had managed to flee without being spotted by any of the Amphigeneian guards. They scrambled over the rocks at the shoreline, finding their way in the darkness until they came to a small path that led through the dunes. At the top of the final rise Jason paused. To his left lay the city of Atlantis – the city he had made his home. It looked so peaceful from here; one would never know the turmoil the last day or so had brought. It felt wrong to be leaving – to be fleeing in these circumstances – but Jason promised himself right there and then that he _would_ return; he _would_ save the city as the Oracle had foretold. Then he turned to look ahead. In the distance lay the woods beyond Atlantis. He smiled softly to himself and started to walk on again. Somewhere out there in those woods his friends were waiting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N (part 2) Okay, don't all hate me for that ending! ;-)
> 
> Time for a new story to begin I think. Catch you next time...


End file.
